Dodging the Bullet
by chicago718
Summary: A/U. She hated him, he hated her. Things change, no matter how much they wish they wouldn't. D/C. Follows the lines of Book One in the Twilight Series.
1. Chapter 1

AFTER THE DRAUGHT

**DODGING THE BULLET**

A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY

_A/N: And so another story begins. I'm writing this really late, but I have no idea when I'm going to put it up. This one's a whole lot more in-depth then Life for Rent, and I hope you guys enjoy it as well. Also, a big thanks to Eternity's Angel of Mercy, with her story __Dismantle, Repair__. It greatly inspired me to write this _

_(though it won't be based on it). Read and review, please! _

_This story isn't a songfic, but a few good songs that I think inspired me:_

Whatever It Takes, _by _Lifehouse

I'm in Love with a Girl, _by _Gavin DeGraw

Time of My Life, _by _David Cook

Keep Holding On, _by _Avril Lavigne

_Sorry for the extra long A/N, I just was to kick this story off right!_

_ CHICAGO718_

_--_

_CHAPTER ONE: SECONDHAND SMOKE_

_--_

Courtney Anderson sat in class, trying to take notes and block off the childish banter of her classmates.

There wasn't really a teacher teaching, she was copying a paragraph in her textbook. Better safe than sorry, she always said.

Chris MaClean, her teacher, and an obvious drug addict (though the principal of the school was oblivious – it was clear she had a thing for him), was murmuring incoherently and making obscene hand gestures at what appeared to be himself.. There was an open bottle of wine on his desk, only a quarter full, and a drained crystalline glass with a crack running through the middle.

School these days, she had no idea why she even bothered to come. She would learn more from the crazy, rich old lady next door than from this addicted fool.

But then again, it was hard not to take advantage of the point in time: Duncan, renowned class 'bad boy', had gotten himself locked up in juvy. Again, this time for a longer period than ever: four months. It was nearly a record, he should have broken out my now.

Courtney…and she hated to sound sophomoric…but she hated his guts. If he dropped dead, in her opinion, the world would be a better place.

It might have only been her, though. He was in with 'The Clique' (at least that's what she called it). Also known as Trent, Tyler, Geoff, and DJ. It never ceased to amaze her. They never got tired of his endless tales of crimes he'd committed, of which there were plenty. And she was sick of it. How couldn't they see he was a jerk, a user? Maybe it was because of those reasons that they liked him, it occurred to her.

She did pride herself, however, on being able to see right through him.

But then again, she might have been the only girl of some sense in her class, besides Bridgette and Gwen. Heather, to be straightforward, was a bitch, Lindsay was a mindless blonde, and Katie and Sadie were wrapped up in their own world.

The boys in her class pretty much ignored her, only breaking that rule when asking her for answers on their assignments. And she was fine with that. She didn't know them, she didn't want to know them, and everything was fine, in her eyes.

She had been able to gather this much on her classmates, and she had only been here for a little less than one year.

Last year she had moved from the quiet, unremarkable but beautiful town of Jameswood, and the next thing she knew she was in a classroom with a drunken teacher in the middle of California. It was a chute from heaven straight into hell.

The only friends she'd managed to make were with Gwen, the sensible artist, and Bridgette, who was game to get along with anyone as long as they were willing. And Courtney had been a little more than willing, try desperate. She needed someone to lean on in this strange new place that she would probably never get accustomed to.

She remembered the day her mom had broken the news to her about the move. The horror. The California school district was sadly inadequate for Courtney. She _needed _the best of the best. And sitting pointlessly in a classroom with a teacher giving himself the middle finger and muttering something about 7-11, well, that just wasn't going to cut it.

There was only one thing Courtney could gather that had been an upside to the move from Jameswood to Huntington Beach: her new house. It was three times the size of her old one. It was painted a friendly blue on the outside with a pretty white trim. At that point, Courtney hadn't thought it was so bad. Her room was huge with a connected bathroom and a walk-in closet, the ceiling white and the walls a light yellow. There was a picture of a white bird sitting on a brown branch painted directly onto the wall in the space above her bed. There was a wall-sized window and white curtains that fluttered of you let in a breeze. Everything was just so modern and efficient, she loved it.

Well, that just shows that nothing's perfect. Far, far from it.

From the first day she'd hated Duncan, as soon as she saw a pack of cigarettes fall out of one of his backpack compartments. This just wasn't where she belonged. She was scared.

Duncan had winked at her, slipping the cigarettes back into his pack, then lit one and puffed right in the middle of the hallway, blowing the smoke in her direction. She'd waved away the offending odor, coughing, and hoping that she wouldn't get lung cancer due to the spread of secondhand smoke.

She momentarily shook herself out of her thoughts, re-copying a sentence in her textbook. She checked the clock, it was a few minutes before the bell. She packed up her stuff and was out the door when the bell rang before anyone else.

She grumbled inwardly to herself, _stupid teacher, stupid classmates, stupid…life_. She adjusted the huge pile of books on her arm, tucking them one by one into her locker.

Something hard bumped into her from behind, making the books spill from her hands to the ground to land in a disorganized heap.

"Sorry about that," a deep voice said, and a hand reached over, picking up four textbooks at once with one hand. She stared at it, amazed. She couldn't even pick up one textbook with just one arm.

"Oh, thank…" she picked up the last book and turned around.

It was Duncan, holding a stack of her books with a flat expression on his face.

"You?" Courtney exclaimed, studying Duncan's face. "You're back?"

"Why? Missed me?" Duncan said, the smug smirk winding onto his face slowly. His breath was so strongly minty that it made Courtney's eyes water.

"No," Courtney said, grabbing her things from his arms and turning around to stuff the books back into her locker so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"Yeah, well I actually got out on good behavior."

"You? I don't believe it," Courtney said, closing her locker and locking it.

"Well, I've decided to take a ride on the different side of the road," Duncan said, his arm still crooked in the same position it had been when it had been holding her books.

Courtney stared at him. "Does that mean you won't be in jail for a while?"

_Shit, _she thought inwardly.

"I'm going to be around her a lot more often, babe. I'll bet you're happy."

"Not even close," she murmured.

"See you, _sweetheart_," he said, winking and turning to catch up with Tyler and Geoff.


	2. Chapter 2

DODGING THE BULLET

**DODGING THE BULLET**

A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY

_A/N: I'm uploading two chapters at once, so I can't thank you for the reviews yet, but I'm sure I will be soon! This chapter is based on the song 'Don't Forget About Me' featured in the movie 'The Breakfast Club'. Also, this scene is a different take on the famous sushi scene in the Breakfast Club, if you've seen it. Make sure to listen to the song, old version in the original movie, or the new and shortened version if you Youtube 'JCPenney Breakfast Club'. Personally the new version I think is better, the other one is way too old fashioned, but suit yourself, it doesn't matter to me._

_CHICAGO718_

_--_

_CHAPTER TWO: SUSHI_

--

Courtney was still boiling about the run-in with Duncan. She moodily opened her gray Bloomingdale's paper bag and withdrew a black box.

Behind her, she was only all too aware of Duncan sitting down next to Trent. She could sense him from a mile away. She took a pair of wooden chopsticks from the bag and opened the black box, which revealed eight pieces of neatly lined up sushi.

She began to eat, hoping that she had suddenly turned invisible, squished between Gwen and Bridgette. No such luck.

"What is _that_?" a male voice said behind her, a body draping itself across her shoulder.

"Sushi," she answered bluntly, hoping that would blow him off. She could smell the mint in his breath, again.

"_Sushi?_" he repeated, contempt apparent in his sneering voice. "What's _sushi?_"

Had he crawled out from under a rock? "Its raw fish, some seaweed and rice," she said, poking at a bit of rice as to prove her point.

"So you'll eat that, but you won't let me put my tongue in your mouth?" he said, his breath cold on her ear.

"Different side of the road, that was just shit," she muttered to herself, tilting her shoulder downwards to make his chin and the arm it was resting on slide off.

She ate the rest of her sushi quickly, disposing of the black box and the Bloomingdale's bag. She checked herself for damage. No spills or stains? That would ruin her image of pristine, neat, clean. It was probably the only thing she could cling to.

Its not that she didn't register what the school thought of Duncan. More of the opposite, she was completely omniscient to it. She was totally aware of all the girls throwing themselves at him, she was just too smart. She was an exception.

She could half-understand why, Trent was already with Gwen, and Geoff with Bridgette, which made her only two friends a part of 'the Clique'.

Duncan was…how could she say it? He was bad, he was (according to half the percentage of girls at her high school) apparently 'hot', and he was completely not her type.

She remembered a few months ago, before Duncan had been in jail. It probably was the only moment of her life that she had regret what she had done.

It had been a hot day in the middle of fall, and Geoff, Duncan, and Trent had all taken off their shirts in the classroom.

Courtney had been half-disgusted, half-intrigued. She was one of the few people that had seen all three, naked from the waist up.

Trent and Geoff were frightening to Courtney with their ripped bodies and solid muscle.

Duncan was less like that, sure he was strong, but his abdominal muscles were fainter and more beneath his skin than protruding out of his stomach like Trent and Geoff's.

She found herself tracing the muscles she found on Duncan, not Trent, or Geoff. And she hated herself for it.

Ugh, she hated that memory. She wanted to press the delete button on it, but it was impossible, Duncan's shirtless body was pretty much tattooed onto her brain.

"COURTNEY!" A loud female voice shattered her thoughts.

It was Bridgette, waving a hand in front of Courtney's face. "Uh, yeah, sorry?"

"Nothing, you were on cloud nine or something," Bridgette amended, turning back to her salad.

"No, no, not cloud nine," Courtney interjected.

Bridgette gave her a funny look. "It's just a saying, Court."

"I know," Courtney replied, picking a piece of lettuce out of Bridgette's plate and nibbling on it to distract herself.

"Hey, I heard you got a new car," Bridgette said conversationally, looking at Courtney, excited.

It was true; her parents had got her a car for her birthday. She had gotten her license last week. Courtney liked it, it was a conservative light blue, even if it was a BMW.

"Yeah, it's really…nice," Courtney said, lack for a better word.

"So how many miles per gallon?" Bridgette said, tugging her elastic out of her hair and letting it cascade down her back like a waterfall of gold. Courtney saw Geoff stare, slackjawed, from the corner of her eye. She always had been concerned about the environment.

Courtney actually didn't know. "Uh…30."

Bridgette shrugged. "Adequate."

The bell rang sharply. Bridgette sighed and threw away her salad.

On her way out, Gwen caught up with her. "What do you think?"

Gwen showed Courtney her sketch book. It was a picture of Trent. It looked so lifelike that she thought it might ask her for the answer to problem fourteen. She almost laughed at her creepy thought.

"It's really good, Gwen," Courtney answered truthfully. It really was.

"That's great," Gwen said excitedly. Well, as excited as Gwen got, anyway. "I was thinking I could get this enlarged and put it on a canvas. There's a young artists convention down at the art museum, I thought maybe I could enter."

"Great, I'll stop by," Courtney smiled sincerely. Gwen headed to Chem. class, brushing off Courtney with a, "See you later!".

So Gwen had a guy, so Bridgette had a guy. So what? She didn't need guys.


	3. Chapter 3

DODGING THE BULLET

**DODGING THE BULLET**

A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY

_A/N: Yet another chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed the last one, you seemed to. I was hoping to reach the ninety-review point by chapter four…probably too much to ask, but I'm not going to update too much unless I get a lot of reviews. Not because I'm selfish or anything, I just want to know that I'm not writing a pointless story no one likes, that's all. So please, read and review!_

_One more thing, I know exactly where I'm going with this story, right up to the last chapter, but its going to be a while longer so hold on. This story will be following the lines of Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer. Only Duncan has no vampire abilities and there's no weird run for their lives at the end. Whoops. Gave that one away. So Courtney as Bella, Duncan as Edward, Bridgette and Gwen as Jessica and Angela, Justin as Mike/Tyler, Heather as Lauren, Tyler as Jacob (only non-romantically interested in Courtney) and a few other OCs for Charlie, Renee, Esme and Carlisle._

_Not much Courtney/Duncan in this chapter, but trust me, things SHALL get eventful._

_If you haven't read Twilight you can just dismiss my other note, but I strongly recommend reading it. Not only is it a good story but it will help you understand this one a little better._

_CHICAGO718_

--

_CHAPTER THREE: LAST LAUGH_

_--_

Courtney furiously yanked on her jacket after taking it from the coat hook. It wasn't rainy often at Huntington Beach, but they had had a week of heavy storms and gusty rain.

There was a piece of neon green paper taped to the exit doors, reading:

SPRING FLING

FRIDAY, MAY 20, AT 6:30 – 10:00

"Spring fling, like I ever get asked," Courtney muttered to herself, tempted to rip off the sign. She didn't though, it would land her in the principal's office, and that was one place she vowed never to be.

Even at her old school, the only person that ever asked her was her family's friend, Todd. He asked out of courtesy, not romantic interest. Courtney always politely turned him down: he was a few inches shorter than her, with large teeth and a mullet. He obviously didn't know the eighties were over.

She walked out into the light rain, a cool wind blowing it to make it feel like pricks of ice hitting her cheek. She pulled her hood up, got in the car, and turned up the heat.

She methodically pulled out of the parking lot, making carefully sure not to hit the beaten-up white Camaro behind her which was waiting.

Pressing her foot on the pedal, she prepared to drive out of the parking lot and to home before screaming.

"Dammit!" she said to herself, pushing the brake pedal down to avoid smashing a red sedan.

It obviously wasn't the red sedan's fault: a beaten-up black truck was stopped right outside the path leading out of the school.

The red sedan's window rolled down and a guy's voice shouted, "Hey! Get moving!"

The black truck paid no mind, of course. The only response was a loud burst of rock music that wound its way loudly to the ears of the other drivers.

Courtney took her foot off the brake, muttering obscenities to herself and impatiently drumming her fingertips on the leather-clad wheel.

The heat in her car was quickly becoming oppressive without the movement of her car, so she turned it off and halfway opened the window.

The guy in the red sedan opened his door. Courtney wasn't surprised to see Justin get out. He was always the first one out of school.

What she was surprised about was that instead of going over and demanding the black truck to move, he turned to her own blue BMW.

Courtney cringed in her chair, wondering what would come next.

He stopped outside her open window and motioned for her to lower it more. She did so, hoping he had no knife.

"Uh, Courtney," he said, his attractive voice coming in to her car, "you know the spring fling next Friday?"

That was what it was? He wanted to ask _her _to the _dance_?

"Yeah," she answered monotonously, feeling stupid to herself. She knew. Had it only been ten minutes ago that she had been tempted to rip off that very sign?

"I was wondering if you'd like to go with me. I mean, if you aren't busy or already have a date or something." Justin stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Courtney was too taken aback to answer, but when she found her voice, she squeaked, "I can't go, uh, I'm…going…away."

Where had that lame excuse come from? A three year old could have come up with a better lie. Courtney waited for him to claim her a liar.

"Oh," Justin murmured, digging deeper into his raincoat pockets. "Okay. Yeah, there's always the prom in a few weeks."

He walked away, frowning. Courtney breathed an inward sigh of relief. He had fallen for that?

She realized she was shivering again, and shut the window.

_Why did I turn him down? _she wondered.

Justin wasn't too popular, he was a quiet and not-too-smart boy who didn't raise his hand and rarely had his homework done. There was, however, something about him that made girls stare when he walked down the hallway, maybe it was his hair which was oh-so-casually messed up all the time, or the ripped body, or his muscularity.

Courtney thought he was okay in terms of looks, he was an altogether nice boy that she really didn't care about or for much at all.

She turned her gaze from her side window to her windshield and bit her lip, glaring at the sight.

It was Duncan, Trent and Geoff, obviously laughing at her misfortune with Justin. And finally, with the damage done, the black car skidded out the path and illegally fishtailed onto the opposite side of the road, where no doubt they were headed to pick up more cigarettes.

Courtney closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking deep yoga breaths. Why did things happen to her?

Of course, she knew why. She was the preppy new girl, a rule-follower, the academic-type. In another words, fresh meat.


	4. Chapter 4

DODGING THE BULLET

**DODGING THE BULLET**

A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY

_A/N: Yet another chapter. I hope you enjoy Twilight, because this story is pretty much it, in Total Drama Island format. This chapter might be a bit angst-y, with a bit of JustinxCourtney. Not on Courtney's part, of course. And of course Duncan's protective side sort of kicks in. I don't really like Justin, he's pointless except for his good looks in the show. So yeah, don't be surprised if you find yourself getting severely annoyed with him._

_This is a very lengthy chapter so hold in for the long run._

_Another song for this chapter:_

Crash, _by _Hilary Duff

_It's Hilary Duff and all, but it's an okay song that fits nicely with this chapter. _

_Read and review, readers, read and review. (5x fast?)_

_CHICAGO718_

--

_CHAPTER FOUR: CRASH_

_--_

Courtney stood in front of her full-length mirror, annoyed with herself, Justin, Duncan, and all of his friends. Of course they had done that traffic jam just to spite her. It was so stupid. Justin had been, unbeknownst to him, part of the plan, and he had played his part to perfection.

Aggravated, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and put on a white cable-knit pullover hoodie. As soon as she had looked out the window she knew she could skip the tee shirts for a while. The sky was dark gray, with flashes of white lighting up the sky every minute.

"Morning, sweetheart," her mom, Diane, said, sipping lukewarm black coffee in one hand and flipping through Steven King's 'It' with the other. The contrast in tones between her mother's and Duncan's sneering indifference when he had referred to her as 'sweetheart' the day previous was almost comical.

"Morning," Courtney replied blandly, taking a box of toaster waffles out of the refrigerator. After they had cooked, she ate two wordlessly.

"In a bad mood?" her mom asked, unusually observant and putting down her book.

"Not really," she lied. "I'm just nervous about the trig test today, that's all."

"Oh," her mom sighed understandingly. "You'll do fine. You always do."

Courtney put on her shoes and walked outside to her car. It hummed as she turned the keys, warming beneath her feet. She smiled. If only school was as comfortable as the car, she would be happy.

She took her time, driving slowly and a few miles beneath the speed limit. Still, she made it to school half an hour early. Only a few cars were in the parking lot.

The rain and lighting had stopped, but the sky was still dark and threatening rain. She didn't feel like playing it safe today, though. She took her trig textbook out of her backpack and sat on one of the stone tables outside the cafeteria, flipping through the chapters and trying hard to concentrate.

She looked up only when a dark shadow cast its way across her book, blocking her reading light.

"Uh, hi," Justin said, putting down his raincoat hood.

Courtney bit her lip. "Hi."

Was he going to ask her about the fling again? Had he finally figured out that she had been lying? She winced inwardly.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sitting down next to her without her agreeing.

"Studying," she answered bluntly. _That means you should go away, _she thought.

"The trig test, damn, I forgot," Justin said, looking genuinely worried.

"Too bad," Courtney answered. "Well, good luck." _Go away, _she urged.

"You think you could help me?" he asked hopefully.

"No, I'm barely prepared myself." _Leave me alone._

"Oh well."

Courtney smiled awkwardly, turning back to her book and hoping he would take the hint.

"I never noticed, you have yellow in your hair," Justin commented, brushing her hair out of her face and taking a strand in his hand, tugging at it.

Courtney looked up at the parking lot, biting her tongue.

Duncan, Trent, and Geoff had pulled into the school. Trent and Geoff were throwing a football, but Duncan was looking directly at her. Or, to be more precise, at Justin holding her hair. There was no mistaking that jealous and somewhat primal look.

She politely turned her head so that her hair would fall out of Justin's fingers. Meanwhile, her thoughts were running a hundred miles an hour. She felt blood rush to her face, crimsoning.

_Duncan? Jealous? Of Justin, touching me? _she thought miserably. She could only imagine the horrors this would cause.

Justin finally seemed to get it, mainly because of Duncan's glare pointed at him. He got up, tripping slightly on his feet. "Well, I'll see you later, Courtney."

"Uh, bye," she said, relieved.

She got up, haphazardly stuffing her book in her bag.

_No, it's impossible, _she thought. _I mistook his look. He was probably smirking. Yes, that's it. No way could he be jealous of Justin, because of _me_._

She felt herself relax; obviously it was for this reason and nothing else. Her life would stay as it was.

She tucked the piece of hair Justin had been touching back into place and headed into school.

Bridgette and Gwen were waiting for her near the entrance. She smiled a false smile.

Bridgette wasn't fooled. "I think I know."

Courtney glared at her. "What would you know?"

"We pulled into the parking lot when Justin was touching your hair!" Bridgette exclaimed, clasping her hands together.

"I think Justin is overrated," Gwen volunteered, shading a drawing in her sketchbook.

"I think its sweet," Bridgette argued.

"I think we should get to class before we're late. And I know what you're thinking," Courtney added as Bridgette opened her mouth to talk. "And it's a no. I don't like Justin."

Bridgette rolled her eyes. "He's cute."

"Maybe so, but he's not…" Courtney hedged.

"Not what?"

"Not…my type. I mean, sure he's attractive, but there's got to be something behind the face, you know?" Courtney said.

Bridgette just shrugged and turned into a class that smelled strongly of Windex. "Chem. See you guys."

Courtney turned into the next room, her homeroom class. Justin was sitting towards the back. He waved. Courtney pretended not to see him.

DJ, Tyler, Trent, Duncan, and Geoff were sitting in the very back of the classroom. DJ was pounding a drum beat on his desk, Trent and Geoff were still playing football, Tyler was leaning back on two legs of his chair and staring at Lindsay's back, and Duncan was just…sitting.

She examined him more carefully, but casually as she walked to her seat. Duncan's muscles in his forearms were tensed and visible from his black button-down shirt, which was rolled up to his elbows. He had a hard look on his face, eyebrows creased. He looked directly at her. Courtney felt as if the tension had transmitted.

Dread filled her; so it hadn't been her imagination.

_I'm sure he has a perfectly good reason to be tense, _Courtney thought, turning around in her seat to face front. _It's absurd that someone like him should be attracted to someone like…me. Anyway, I'm totally out of his league._

It was probably the other way around, but the last person who would admit that was Courtney.

She could barely concentrate on the teacher's words, just like the half-naked Duncan memory tattooed on her brain; she couldn't seem to get the idea of Duncan, jealous of Justin, out her head.

The day passed slowly, soon it was last period, gym.

The only moment she truly dreaded that day was gym, Duncan wasn't in her class but sports were not her strong point in the least.

She changed into the required and prison garb-like gym uniform: mesh black shorts that seemed too short to be abided by the dress code, and a bear sized blue tee shirt with pictures of various sports equipment on the front and back.

Oh yeah, this outfit was going to appear in _Vogue _any day now.

"Okay," Coach Page barked once all the students were dressed and lined up like prisoners against the wall. Courtney couldn't help but suspect she was a man, even if there was a mop of long curly red hair at the nape of her neck, pulled into a tight ponytail.

"Today you will be participating in a volleyball game, boys against girls. Participation is _mandatory, _Anderson," the coach clarified, glaring pointedly at Courtney. "That means no 'sprained ankles', got that?" Coach formed sarcastic quotations in the air with her fingers.

Courtney cringed and nodded. Leave it to Coach Page to humiliate her in front of her class, if Duncan or Justin couldn't get the job done. A few kids snickered.

Somehow she managed to serve the ball behind her on her first serve, the other team smirked, her team glared.

After what seemed like hours of horrendous hitting the ball back and forth over a net, Courtney changed back into her pullover and jeans. No doubt that the time when she had swatted the ball and it had bounced off her foot would make it into the 'Funnies' section of the school paper.

She yanked the bottom of her hoodie down with unneeded force and slung her backpack onto her back, ready to drive back home. The parking lot was flooded with rain.

"Hold it, little miss," someone said, a hand grabbing her shoulder and pulling her out of the way. It was a bearded construction worker. "We're setting down new tar here, go around the orange cones. Tar is very slippery when it hasn't dried."

Courtney avoided the orange cones as she opened her car trunk, avoiding the snickers of the fellow gym-mates around her that were getting into their cars. She prepared to stuff the plastic bag with her gym uniform in it when suddenly someone yelled, "Watch out!"

She turned around. It was Justin, his red car out of control, skidding across the still-wet and newly tarred parking lot directly in the path of her and her car. Her eyes widened.

There wasn't even time to scream. It all seemed to move in slow motion, the truck turning one last time so that its side would face her when it hit her, the splashes of tar going everywhere, the crowd turned towards her, watching with horrified expressions.

Courtney shut her eyes, waiting for the sickening meeting of car to body.

And then something grabbed her by the wrists, forcing her out of the way and to the ground of the cold, wet parking lot. Her back leaned against one of the parking barriers so that she was upright. The breath got knocked out of her. The hands let go of her wrists. Momentarily she panicked that her cable knit white pullover had gotten dirty, but then realized that that concern was mundane and trivial.

She opened her eyes just in time to see Justin's car collide with her BMW, the metal of her trunk and his side doors smashing together to form some kind of accordion shape, the horrible screech of the two solid objects meeting with such force.

She was lucky it wasn't her.

Courtney looked up into a pair of very blue eyes, staring down at her with a little concern, but maybe more amusement. There was no mistaking that sharply mint breath.

"Why didn't you move out of the way?" Duncan asked, crouching over her.

Courtney found that her vocal cords seemed to have stopped working, all that came out was a sound like someone scraping two pieces of gravel together.

He shook her shoulder. "Talk to me, princess."

She shrugged.

"Someone get Justin!" a female voice screeched from across the lot.

The bearded construction worker opened the door on the passenger's side and lifted a bloodied Justin out of it. He seemed to have been knocked unconscious.

"Call 9-1-1!" the worker said in a rushed voice. One of his partners took out a cell phone.

In less than ten minutes, an ambulance pulled up in the parking lot and Justin was loaded in on a stretcher.

"Hey, you better take this one too," Duncan said, lifting up Courtney with ease, bridal-style, and handing her off to one of the medical helpers.

Courtney gave Duncan a frantic and furious look.

_No, _she tried to say to the medical helper. _I'm okay._

All that came out was the sound of gravel.

The medical worker loaded her in, obviously her attempts at speaking had sealed her fate.

She was taken to a very white room. A large woman strapped a neck brace around her neck.

Courtney tugged at it furiously, embarrassed and feeling stupid. She felt even stupider when she realized Justin was awake and Duncan was also in the room.

Duncan was leaning on an armchair across from her bed, smirking at her.

Justin looked even more apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't see the cones and when I backed out of the parking lot I just started slipping into the path of your car. God, I could have killed you. I feel so stupid."

Courtney tried to assure him that she was fine, but it turned out to be a muffled screech.

The doctor came in and lifted Courtney's chin.

"Nothing seems to be the matter," he said, looking over at Duncan.

"Try and get her to talk, then," Duncan said, sarcasm coloring his tone.

Courtney opened her mouth and graveled.

"Hmm. Just seems to be a dry throat, my dear. Cough a few times and take a drink over there," the doctor directed. "After that, you may leave."

He turned to Justin. "You might need to stay a little longer, young man." He began to put antibiotic on Justin's wounds.

Courtney coughed a few times, feeling coming back into her throat with the numbness ebbing away, and took a long drink of water, gulping it down.

Duncan put his hand on her back and led her out, but as soon as they were about to turn to the hallway before waiting room, Courtney stopped him.

"Why did you tell him I wasn't okay?" she demanded, coughing. "And, why did you save me? You hate me!"

His coolness by comparison to Courtney was nearly laughable. "You weren't okay. You were talking gravel."

It was true, but there was one other question. "But…why'd you save me?"

His expression darkened. "I can't to a good deed once in a while? I couldn't just let you get killed."

"Well, I wouldn't be here. You hate me, it would be a good thing for you," Courtney reminded him.

Duncan raised his eyebrows. "I don't always do things that are good for me. Besides, what makes you think I don't want you to be here?"

Courtney looked down, confused and embarrassed. They were both silent as they walked into the waiting room.

"Oh! Courtney! Oh dear lord I was so worried," her mom babbled, flinging her arms around Courtney's neck.

"Mom, I'm fine, Justin's car didn't hurt me at all," Courtney complained, ducking out of her mother's grip.

"Who is this young man?" Diane asked, looking at Duncan.

Courtney paused, thinking of the right word. "Mom, this is my…classmate, Duncan. Uh, he pushed me out of the way of the car."

"You saved my little girl?" her mom said, eyes shining. Courtney winced inwardly; her mom was so embarrassing.

"Yes yes, he's a hero," she interrupted quickly before her mother could her express her undying gratitude.

"Thank you," the mother said, smiling and shaking Duncan's outstretched hand.

"No problem. She should have just gotten out of the way herself, though," he said, grinning wickedly at Courtney.

"Courtney! You mean you didn't try to get out of the way?" Diane exclaimed.

"It was too fast," Courtney explained, glaring daggers at Duncan.

"I'll take your word for it, but next time, don't do that," Diane scolded. Her tone changed completely to sweet for Duncan. "Thank you, Duncan. We very much appreciate you saving Courtney."

Diane herded Courtney outside into the waiting rain to her own dark blue SUV.

Courtney was wrapped up in her thoughts.

_Why did Duncan, of all people, save me?_

_What if I don't really hate him?_

_Have I misjudged him all along?_


	5. Chapter 5

DODGING THE BULLET

**DODGING THE BULLET**

A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY

_A/N: I hope you liked the last chapter, I actually thought it was pretty good instead of my usual. And to bunnyboo, I'm not ignoring you, I just didn't have time to put you in my author's note. It's a good idea, thanks! I might try to fit that in somehow. It's just really hard for me to imagine Courtney getting pregnant, you know? So I hope you don't think I think it's a bad idea, I just think it would be hard to write. If you feel like starting me off, I could try to turn it into a chapter, you could email it to me at snapcracklepop/at/rocketmai/com/. Thank you! I don't know how my email address is going to actually show up on the story page, so if you can't read the email above, check my profile page, it should be there._

_One more character will be added in this chapter, Cody as Eric._

_One more song that I feel suits this pairing (I'm always finding good ones):_

Fall for You, _by _Secondhand Serenade

_And yes, whoever guessed that the fainting in Biology would come next, you're correct. You might find this chapter similar to my chapter 'Who Knew Frogs Could Lead to Fluff?' in Life for Rent, but it will differ slightly. _

_Oh, and school started today, expect updates in the afternoon from now on, except for on weekends. _

_CHICAGO718_

_--_

_CHAPTER FIVE: EXCUSES_

_--_

Courtney's throat was stinging and dry when she woke up. She gulped down a few cups of water and felt better. She was still confused about Duncan saving her.

Needless to say her image of him had changed completely. He couldn't be that bad if he was willing to risk his own life to save her. She had thought he was selfish.

She hated to admit it to herself, but she could picture him leaned over her the day before. It was a bad thing. She and Duncan couldn't be together.

_I'm thinking way ahead, _she told herself. _Just because he saved me from an oncoming car does not, by any means, mean anything at all. Like, I don't hate anyone enough to let them killed. Of course, anyone would have done that. It just so happened to be him that time._

She felt better immediately. It was stupid to think that of Duncan. He was still that boy who was untouchable to people like her. And it would remain that way, hopefully until they graduated.

Her mother was delicate around her that morning, as if she was a precious crystal vase that would shatter at the slightest touch. Courtney was annoyed at her mother flitting around her like a maid.

"Mom, I'm fine! You should be worried about Justin!" Courtney snapped.

Her mom looked taken aback. "Of course I feel bad for him," she replied, shameful. "You're my daughter, though. I don't want you hurt."

Courtney softened. "I know, but I'm fine. Duncan pushed me out of the way. I'm great."

Her mom smiled. "Alright, alright. Just get to school."

Courtney couldn't enjoy her car, it was now destroyed beyond repair. She climbed into her mom's car and left for school, wrapped up in thoughts.

The rain was sheeting as she pulled into the lot, taking one of the bigger spaces now that she was without her compact car.

Courtney saw a few people walking through the parking lot give her a wide berth, like some sort of invisible force field was around her.

She understood. She had become _that _girl. There was always _that _girl or boy at every school. She had heard about her mother's school's _that _boy. He had brought a flare gun to school and tried to kill himself. She had heard her dad's school's _that _boy. He had actually killed his mother.

So there she was, _that _girl who had almost gotten crushed to death by a car.

Couldn't it have been Justin or Duncan?

She was a good girl. She went to church, she prayed, she got good grades, she never stole or lied. So why was Duncan the one with all the luck?

She put her hood up and started walking towards the brick building, hoping to get there before anyone could talk to her.

No such luck.

"Princess," a voice said behind her. She shut her eyes tightly and pretended not to hear, walking by. A hand spun her around to face Duncan.

"What do you want?" she demanded, stamping her foot lightly.

He looked at her, his expression amused. "I was wondering if you were doing anything on the day of the spring dance--"

Courtney glared at him, putting her hand on the car next to her, which happened to be Duncan's. "Are you trying to be _funny_?" she interrupted, narrowing her eyes through the fleeting rain up at him.

"Will you let me finish?" he said lightly, still cordial.

She looked at her feet; it was easier to concentrate that way. "What, then?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to Mount Shasta on Sunday," he said coolly, as if it was absolutely normal to go from hating her one day to asking her to someplace next.

Courtney pondered it, slightly shell-shocked. She hated Duncan; she did want to see Mount Shasta. She had heard it was more of a cliff than a mountain; it was beautiful, she had seen it on the Internet.

She suddenly realized she wasn't breathing, she had been staring into Duncan's eyes instead; he looked amused. She snapped her head down, taking inconspicuous breaths of air. It was ridiculous she should feel faint.

"I want to see it," she said breathlessly for a second, then realized what had popped out. "But…not with you."

His eyes darkened. "Why not?"

"Because it's stupid that you should hate me one day and ask me to Mount Shasta the next," she blurted out. She was once again looking at her shoes, tracing the mud spots with her eyes.

He lifted up her chin with one finger so that she was looking directly into his face, her heart spluttered erratically. She interlocked her pointer fingers and twisted them together. "I saved your life. You owe me."

"So I repay you by going?" she asked incredulously.

He let go of her chin. "Yes."

She bit the side of her cheek; she could only imagine all the embarrassing things that could happen, alone with Duncan. And this was probably all just a bet with Geoff and Trent. See if you can get the preppy new girl to go on a date with her then discard her like a used tissue.

"I'll think about it," she said finally. _That means no, _she thought.

Luckily he couldn't read minds. He smiled with his dazzlingly straight white teeth. "Good."

He turned to walk away. Courtney was left alone in the wet parking lot like a drowned cat to ponder what had just happened.

As she walked into the school, pulling down her hood, the principal pulled her aside. "Courtney."

She turned to him. "Oh, hi, Principal Franklin."

He straightened his tie, fidgeting in it as if it was too tight on his froglike neck.

"You've been switched into the other Biology class. A new student especially requested Miss Laughlin, and I think you'd fit in very nicely with your new class."

She shrugged. "Okay."

Principal Franklin walked away, making choking noises and pulling at his tie. She rolled her eyes and walked to homeroom.

When fifth period rolled around, she headed into her new Biology room. A young, petite, pretty teacher sat at the desk, crossing her legs. She looked like she would be a perfect victim for the hormonal teenage boys in her class.

She looked around the room. Her heart stopped then picked up at three times the previous speed when she saw Duncan sitting at a table with two chairs, the other one unoccupied.

"You must be Courtney Anderson," the teacher said, pointing to a name card on her desk. "I'm Miss Willoughby."

"Oh, yeah," Courtney said, nodding. "Hi."

Her teacher scanned the room and her eyes lit up when she spotted Duncan. "Ah, you can sit next to Duncan over there."

She looked over. The primal look she had spotted the day before on Duncan was back with a vengeance. She twitched slightly. "Isn't there anyone else I could sit with?"

Her teacher looked at her, confused. "I'm afraid not."

Of course, just her luck. She slunk over to the desk and slung her backpack onto the seat back.

He looked like he was about to say something but obviously the fact of her being paired with him in Biology until next semester was punishment enough. He closed his mouth again.

Courtney folded both arms on top of each other on the desktop, allowing her long, straight, brown hair to fall over one shoulder, creating a barrier between them. She could still feel his eyes boring through her sheet of hair. She bit her lip and looked at Miss Willoughby.

Duncan raised his hand. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

The teacher nodded. "Hurry up."

Courtney threw her hair back over her shoulder as soon as he was gone.

"Okay class," the teacher said, clapping her hands together with enthusiasm normally used on first graders. "Today, since we've been studying the human body, I thought it would be fun to know your blood type. The Red Cross donated some of these materials; we'll be turning in our cards at the end of this period so hopefully they'll be back next week with your blood type information."

Courtney paled. Oh, no. Blood. She wasn't good with blood, not even her own.

"O-kay," the teacher said slowly as she picked up a sterilized needle and pricked her finger. A thin red line appeared and three drops of red blood spilled onto the white card. "What I want you to do is pick up your sterilized needle, prick your forefinger, not too hard, mind you, and put no more than three drops onto the white card. Understood?"

There were murmurs of excitement, whispers, and giggles as her classmates pricked their fingers. The sound of blood dripping onto the card seemed to be magnified ten times in Courtney's ears. The white card in front of her swam in front of her eyes. She put her head in her folded arms.

"Courtney?" a female voice said anxiously in front of her, alert with alarm. She couldn't hear it very well, all she could hear was that ringing in her ears.

"Oh, dear. Are you alright?"

"No," she groaned into her arms.

"Can you walk to the nurse's office?"

"I don't…think so," she breathed, trying to ease away the nausea with deep breaths. _Just get me out of here, _she thought. _I'll crawl._

"Can someone assist Courtney in walking to the nurse's office?" Miss Willoughby said, raising her voice.

She didn't have to raise her head to know it was Cody. He didn't have the nerve to approach her and ask for a date like Justin, but he had been following from a safe distance like a golden retriever since school had started.

He seemed eager to put his arm around her waist. Courtney opened her eyes; everything swum. She closed them again. Darkness was better.

"Put your hand in your pocket," she warned, pressing her lips together. Cody nodded.

After a while she felt her stomach lurch.

"Please, just let me sit down," she begged. Cody obliged and sat her on the floor against the wall. She tilted her head back and opened her eyes, breathing slowly.

"What's wrong with her?" a voice said from down the hallway, coming closer. It was a guy, she could tell.

"She didn't feel well when we pricked out fingers in Biology, Duncan," Cody said.

_Oh, it had to be him!_

"I can take it from here, Cody," Duncan said, his voice suddenly much closer, his mint breath washing soothingly over her face.

"Miss Willoughby said I should do it," Cody said defensively.

Duncan ignored him. Courtney's eyes flew open wide as she felt her feet leave the ground; Duncan had just picked her up as if she was thirty pounds lighter than her actual weight of one hundred fifteen.

"Put—me—down!" she demanded, kicking her feet in hopes they would land in the right place. No luck. She would have to stop counting on luck; obviously it wasn't on her side. She felt her stomach wobble.

_Oh please, please don't let me throw up on him, _she begged God.

"You look like death," he commented with a grin. She pounded a fist again his chest, which, sadly, was solidly rock-hard.

"Let go of me!" she insisted. The swaying of his walk was rocking her stomach uncomfortably.

"Can you walk?" he asked slyly.

She glared, then sighed and put her fist down.

"I didn't think so," he finalized.

He supported her with one hand while pushing the nurse's office door with the other. A round, red-headed woman was standing behind the desk, snapping gum while straightening her glasses as she clicked away on her computer.

"Oh, my," she sighed as she saw Duncan holding a not-so-happy Courtney.

"She got sick in Biology," Duncan explained, setting her down with surprising gentleness on one of the tan, faux-leather cots. Courtney breathed a sigh of relief; she hadn't gotten sick all over him.

The nurse nodded understandingly. "We have one every year."

Duncan suppressed a smirk by coughing, then went to lean in one of the corners as the nurse gave her an ice pack.

"Feeling better?" she asked kindly.

"Yeah," Courtney replied, pressing the ice to her cheek. The nausea was fading, the ringing had disappeared, and the white walls stayed where they should.

"You just sit until you feel better," she sympathized, patting Courtney's leg and going back to her desk.

"So, you faint at the sight of blood. And not your own, either," Duncan smirked, leaning against the wall with one hand, as soon as the nurse was out of ear and eye shot.

She glared at him, pressing the ice harder. "I didn't _faint_. I just don't like blood."

"Whatever floats your boat, babe," he said coolly.

"Don't call me _babe_," Courtney emphasized, saying the word 'babe' like an expletive.

"Sure, _darling,_" he said sarcastically.

Courtney pulled the ice away from her face; she was too annoyed with Duncan to be nauseous.

"Here comes another one," the nurse warned as she came into the room before a sick-looking Ezekiel with Cody supporting him.

Courtney jumped up to free the cot and watched Ezekiel lay down, clutching his stomach. His finger was pricked; a small stream of blood stained the tan fabric of the cot. Courtney quickly left the room.

After a minute, Duncan joined her with his hands in his pockets, along with Cody.

"_You _look better," Cody accused Courtney, giving Duncan a dirty look.

"Just keep your hand in your pocket," she replied.

"It stopped bleeding a while ago," he informed her, taking his cut but unbloodied finger out of his khaki cargos pocket to prove his point.

Courtney bit her lip. It was obvious Cody was still bitter. Did he not understand that it wasn't her fault?

"See you in gym," Cody murmured sourly, pushing the nurse's office door open with one hand.

"Shit," Courtney muttered. Gym.

"Stay here. Sit down and look sick," Duncan told her.

Courtney sat down on one of the beige folding chairs and leaned her head against the wall, trying to imitate the expression she had worn while sitting on the floor with Cody.

He walked up to the nurse.

"Anything you need, dear?" she said, looking up from her screen, undoubtedly, into his very blue eyes. Her look became glazed.

"Yes," he said. "Courtney here has gym next, she doesn't feel very good. I was wondering if I could drive her home?"

"S-sure," she fluttered. "Do you need a slip?"

"No, I have Miss Jennings, she won't mind," he said.

"You feel better, dear," the nurse said, her voice losing the fluttery aspect as she addressed Courtney.

"Mm," Courtney replied with fake weakness.

Duncan's expression became sarcastic as he turned his back on the nurse. "Should I carry you to the car?"

Courtney glared. "I'm fine."

He held the door open for her. For once, she was glad to see rain. The cool drops washed her face of the sticky perspiration.

"Thanks," Courtney said, forcing the words through her lips. "I mean, for getting me out of gym."

"No problem," he answered.

They reached the parking lot. Courtney turned to the right; she could see her mother's car, luckily undamaged, sitting there.

"Uh…bye," she said, turning towards the car.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice suddenly low and furious. Something grabbed the hood of her jacket.

Courtney backtracked a few steps. "Home?"

"I promised the nurse I'd take you home safely," he said, his voice on the same low note. "I can't let you drive home in your condition."

"What condition?" Courtney asked, confused. "Let go!" He had started dragging her towards the car. "What about my mom's car?"

"I'll bring it to your house tonight," he replied.

"Ugh! Stop pushing!" she complained as they neared the black truck.

"It's open," was all he replied, getting in the driver's side after pushing Courtney roughly towards the seat next to the driver's.

"You are _such _a jerk," Courtney grumbled. She mentally calculated the chances of getting into her car and driving away before he could catch her.

"I'll just pull you back," he told her, reading her mind.

Courtney balled her hands into fists, trying to drain away her anger, then opened the door and tried to climb in with as much dignity as one could have in such a situation, which, face it, wasn't much. She was soaked to her skin, her jeans and jacket were stuck to her skin, and she closed the door on her foot.

She sat sullenly and silently in the seat, pulling her knees to her chin, until she heard the song.

"December?" she asked incredulously, forgetting to be mad through her surprise.

Duncan turned off the music. "No." He looked straight ahead through the windshield.

"It was," she insisted, recognizing the tune. "I didn't know you knew George Winston."

Duncan sighed. "Fine. My mom listened to it a lot and it rubbed off on me, I guessed."

Courtney unthinkingly turned the music back on. "Same with mine."

They both listened in silence for a few minutes, the road passing by as Courtney directed Duncan to her house.

"You know I have a rep to keep with," Duncan said suddenly. For some reason Courtney couldn't think of, his expression seemed pained and wanting when he turned to look at her.

"I know," she mumbled, confused. She knew he had a rep.

"And, people expect me to do things," he continued.

"Yeah…" she trailed off, wondering where he was going.

"See, some of the things I do…I don't really want to do them, but I'm forced to, people expect me to, Geoff and Trent and peer pressure, they want me to, and I'm their friend," Duncan said, swallowing. He looked at her with the same expression. "I don't know if you understand what I just said. I want you to."

She did.

"Like what don't you want to do?" she probed.

"Like…like smoking. I didn't want to. I went to a party at Trent's, he gave me one, I took one puff, and now I'm addicted," he explained all in one breath.

She was speechless. So none of this was Duncan's doing?

"Does Gwen know about this?" she breathed.

Duncan gripped the wheel tighter. "Yeah. She…likes him anyway. That's what…" He paused.

"That's what?" she asked, curious.

He looked at her, drumming his fingers on the wheel. "That's what I'm trying to say about you with me." He looked away. She was sorry.

Her heart picked up speed, sputtering hyperactively as she dissected what he was saying. Her throat was suddenly drained of all moisture.

He turned to her again, pausing at the red stoplight.

"I'm still wondering about Mount Shasta," he said mutedly.

Courtney bit her tongue and pressed her knees harder against her chin and chest. She stretched her hand across her knee, watching the skin whiten and become taut, her knuckles prominent against her tan skin.

"Okay," she replied.

The car lurched forward, he made a right, and Courtney's house was there. She wished it had taken longer.

She hopped out, feeling better now that she was pretty dry and her foot was safely escaped as she closed the door.

Duncan lowered the window, for the first time, a smile was faint on his mouth. "And sunshine?"

She turned. "Yes?"

"Try not to get run over by any cars till tomorrow when I'm there to push you out of the way," he said.

Courtney sighed; it couldn't have lasted too long. "I'll try my best," she said sarcastically.

He winked. The car sped out of sight.

Courtney rolled her eyes to herself. She still couldn't be sure about him.


	6. Chapter 6

DODGING THE BULLET

**DODGING THE BULLET**

A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY

_A/N: I hope most of you guys are reading this. A lot of the authors on Total Drama Island Fanfiction also enjoy Twilight, so I think this would be the perfect story for them, as long as they like Courtney and Duncan. This chapter is the one where 'Bella' goes shopping with 'Jess', and 'Angela'. Thus meaning Courtney helps Bridgette and Gwen pick out the spring fling dresses while finding out a little background on Duncan. Also, when she's confronted by those scary dudes, Duncan saves her. Kind of. You'll see. I don't know if I like this chapter._

_You know how at the back cover of the Twilight book, there's a little quote from the book, such as:_

_Edward was a vampire._

_Blah blah blah_

_I was undeniably and irrevocably in love with him._

_That's what the chapter's ending is like, but it blows, trust me. Read anyway._

_Um, songs? Oh, yeah:_

We Are Not Alone, _by _Karla Devito

Angels, _by _Within Temptation

_We Are Not Alone is a song made in the eighties, if you're not fond of old music I don't know what you'll think. Then again, I don't really like old songs either, and I liked this one._

_CHICAGO718_

--

_CHAPTER SIX: ANYTIME_

_--_

Courtney packed the last book into her bag, half-relieved, half-disappointed. She hadn't seen Duncan all day. He was absent. Even in Biology, where she was certain he would be making sarcastic remarks.

"Hey Court," Bridgette greeted, stuffing one last book in her bag while walking over.

"Oh," Courtney sighed. "Hi."

"So, Gwen and I thought you could come help us with something," Bridgette suggested.

"Such as?" Courtney asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Picking out our dresses or the fling," Bridgette said, fiddling with her backpack strap. "We know you hate shopping, but Gwen and I have completely different tastes, we won't be able to tell each other if it looks good or not. You're neutral."

"Okay," Courtney shrugged. There was no homework. She could spare some time getting her mind away from _him_.

"Awesome. We're going now, you better call your mom or something," Bridgette said.

"Right." Courtney took her blue phone out of her bag and left her mom a quick message detailing where she was at and when she'd be back.

Bridgette's car was way too much like Courtney's, but hers was a Hybrid. The light blue color of the car depressed Courtney. Justin wasn't back in school yet, but she was sure he'd be in debt for the rest of his high school life or something towards her when he returned.

Courtney tapped her foot on the car floor as Bridgette sped into Rodeo Drive, the shops becoming continuously more upscale until they reached a large, glass-fronted dress shop, squished between a Bloomingdale's and a Juicy Couture. She took off her jacket and left it on the car seat; it had been warmer than she'd thought.

The selection was small, but Bridgette and Gwen, surprisingly, both found what they needed. Bridgette chose a sea blue one that ended above her knees with the top done in a halter style and the bottom separated by a white elastic band. The very bottom of the dress had white swirls all over it, jut like the ocean. Gwen chose a midnight blue one with no sleeves and tiny silver diamonds embedded into the skirt. Courtney complimented both generously and helped by returning a few rejects to their racks.

While Bridgette drifted to the jewelry counter, Gwen stayed near the shoe section, finding a pair of black flats that seemed to have similar diamonds studded around the toe.

"So, Gwen," Courtney asked, hoping she sounded nonchalant and probably failing miserably.

"Yeah?" Gwen said, holding onto Courtney's shoulder as she stood on one foot to put on the flats.

"What do you know about…Duncan?" Courtney forced the word.

Gwen looked at her.

"His dad died," she said quietly, standing on both feet.

"How?" Courtney breathed anxiously.

"Overdid drugs, of course," Gwen said. "Like father, like son."

"How so?" she asked, fighting to keep the cool to her tone.

"Oh, you know," Gwen explained. "Duncan. On the first day of school he had cigarettes, he drinks, you know."

"Trent does too," Courtney couldn't help but add.

Gwen looked at her, pityingly almost. "I know. It's his nature. Most of the time he's a good guy, you know?"

Courtney couldn't be so sure, but she nodded.

Bridgette returned with a plastic bag and her purchases, then looked confusedly at Courtney. "Shouldn't you get a dress while you're here?"

Courtney looked at her blankly. "I'm not going. I don't have a date."

Bridgette and Gwen shared a look. "But Cody said you were going with him."

"I told you it wasn't true," Gwen muttered.

"What? When'd he say this?" Courtney gaped.

"When he came back, before Ezekiel got sick," Bridgette explained.

"Well, I'm not going with anyone," Courtney finalized.

They both shrugged. Gwen paid for hers and they all left.

"So, what should we do now?" Gwen asked no one, looking at her watch. It was five. Dress shopping hadn't taken as long as they had thought previously. They had been planning on going to Sain Havannah, the Australian restaurant across the way, but no one was hungry.

Gwen consented to walking to the beach with Bridgette until six thirty. Courtney said she'd go and look for bookstore. She needed to buy an extra copy of her book.

They bid each other goodbye, at least for now, and Courtney headed in the opposite direction.

She wandered around for a good half an hour before finding a store that had a few books in the display case, all either bibles or books detailing the history of Christian religion. A few glittering dream catchers hung in the window. A woman with silver hair down to her ankles smiled beckoningly from behind the counter, looking like a prairie lady with a long floral skirt and a paisley blouse tucked in. This was one conversation Courtney could skip.

A few blocks away a few glass-fronted shops looked promising. When she reached the desired spot, she realized that they were just empty warehouses up for lease.

That's when she noticed how quiet everything was, except for the faint sound of traffic far away.

She tried a shortcut, taking a detour through a brick alley, but that just got her further into more empty warehouses.

She looked around frantically, there was no one. She couldn't see anyone.

"Hey there, gorgeous," a deep voice said behind her.

A dark shadow emerged from behind one of the warehouses, along with three others.

The first man had a shadow of a beard covering the lower half of his face. They were all dressed the same way, too-big jeans and dirty white shirts. They were all thin and muscular.

Courtney felt her mouth dry up. Quickly, she turned the other way, and much to her surprise, they let her.

But as soon as she rounded the corner that she assumed was closer to town, she saw two of the men, one of them the one with the beard.

She turned another corner and started to run.

The other two men popped up out of nowhere, this time holding pocketknives.

She wasn't being chased, she was being herded.

The bearded man and the other one joined the two to make four. Courtney backed up, and out of fright, fell down, bottom first. Her legs were half way out, her arms supporting her, shoulders up. She bit her lip. Self defense, self defense. Nothing came to mind.

All of a sudden she squinted; two headlights were flashing in the darkness, shaking slightly as if it had made a turn and the car was adjusting itself.

A familiar black truck jumped from the darkness into the flood of light from a streetlamp that suddenly flickered on, fishtailing expertly so that the passenger's door was facing Courtney. She jumped up.

"Get in," a familiar voice said from the driver's seat, the window was down.

Courtney didn't care who the hell it was, she opened the door and got in, slamming the door just as the bearded man turned around.

The car sped off the street, in no time Courtney spotted the lights of town. Then she thought to look over into the driver's seat.

It was Duncan. His hands were gripping the wheel tightly, like he wanted to break it. The skin of his knuckles was stretched to white.

"Are you okay?" Courtney squeaked, wishing she was stronger.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" he replied, his voice strained.

"You didn't," she answered.

"Are you okay?" he asked, almost sincerely, even if his voice was angry.

"It's a bit late, but yes," she breathed. "Thanks."

He let go of the wheel with one hand, and beat his forefinger against the leather with the other. "I am definitely fighting fate to keep you alive."

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "What is _that _supposed to mean?"

He looked at her dubiously. "First, I save you from a car, because you didn't move out of the way. And just now you were about to let those guys rape you."

Was it just her, or did his eyes darken when he said 'rape'?

She swallowed, hard.

"Did you think about yelling for help?" he said, slightly sarcastic.

"I was getting to that."

"What about running?"

"I don't _run_," Courtney said scathingly. "It's below my dignity."

He scoffed. "Forget about dignity, what about your _life_?"

Courtney then realized how stupid what she had said sounded.

"Well…I wasn't really thinking," she said in her defense.

His shoulders, which had been tensed, relaxed and lowered, but he didn't say anything else.

He pulled up in front of the beach, where Bridgette and Gwen were headed towards them.

Courtney got out of the car.

"Where were you? You were supposed to be here over an hour ago!" Bridgette said.

"I took a wrong turn and then I ran into Duncan," Courtney said bluntly.

"We kind of already ate while we were looking for you," Gwen admitted. "Sorry."

"It's fine, I'm not hungry," she assured them.

"Do you want us to drive you home?" Bridgette asked, her eyes switching from a silent Duncan, who was leaning against his car, to Courtney.

"Uh, I think Duncan will," Courtney winced, hoping she wasn't being too obvious in her desperation to spend more time with him.

"That's fine, then. See you tomorrow in Trig, Court." Bridgette waved, her blue eyes wide with held back curiosity. Gwen followed Bridgette back to her blue Prius.

"You really should eat," Duncan muttered.

"I'm not hungry," Courtney lied, wanting more time with him.

"It's not healthy. We're going," Duncan finalized without giving her a choice.

Courtney shrugged to herself and followed him across the street to Sain Havannah.

The receptionist at the counter was a fake blond girl with unnatural looking wavy hair and a shirt with a small kangaroo imprinted on the breast pocket. Her eyes widened when she saw Duncan in all his glory. Courtney couldn't help being a little jealous. Actually, a green-with-envy flame was burning inside her heart, but…that couldn't be.

"A table for two?" she said eagerly, before Duncan could utter a word. And before Courtney knew it they were sitting across from each other in a way too intimate booth beneath a green mosaic lamp.

A short, petite girl with long black hair that she had secured under an Australian sun hat was apparently their waitress. Her expression was expectant: obviously the receptionist had told her all about Duncan. She didn't look disappointed. The girl turned her back on Courtney and addressed Duncan.

"Welcome to the Sain Havannah. I'm Sarah; I'll be your waitress this evening. Can I start you off with a drink?"

"Water for her, nothing for me," Duncan said without checking with Courtney.

Courtney put one elbow on the table and rested her cheek on the side of her arm.

She wanted to say something and not sound like an idiot. But what?

Before any genius ideas struck her, Sarah returned with one ice water that she plopped carelessly in front of Courtney before turning to Duncan.

"Ready to order?" she asked, smiling alluringly.

Duncan looked at Courtney.

"Uh, I'll have…the caponata salad," Courtney said, scanning the menu and saying the first thing she saw. The girl jotted it down and smiled at Duncan, "It should be out right away." Courtney, without anything else to do or say, sipped her water. She had been thirstier than she thought, her encounter with the men had left her parched. Her drink glass was empty before she realized it. She shivered, the icy drink radiating cold throughout her body. "Did you bring a jacket?" Duncan asked disapprovingly. "I did…" Courtney checked the bench, then remembered. "I forgot it in Bridgette's car." She looked up at Duncan. He took off his black zip-front sweatshirt with the white X and handed it to her. "Here." She stared at it. "Uh, no thanks." "You're cold," Duncan said. He stood up and put it on her. It was impossibly awkward. Sarah must have caught the whole thing, because she put the caponata salad in front of Courtney and left wordlessly.

"How did you know where I was?" Courtney asked, averting her eyes and she picked up her fork and speared a piece of lettuce.

Duncan seemed to be watching her lips as she put the piece in her mouth; he shook himself out of his daze, "Huh?"

Courtney blushed. "Uh, how did you know where I was?"

He paused. "You eat, I'll talk," he bargained.

Courtney nodded and put forked another vegetable.

"I skip school all the time. You know that," he said, watching her mouth. She closed it.

"Uh-huh," she said, her mouth full.

"Well, I was here," he said, swallowing. "I saw Bridgette's car, and you in it. So I decided to…follow you." He paused anxiously. She realized she had frozen with the bite halfway to her mouth.

"You followed me?" she asked, partly surprised, partly elated. Then she put the bite in her mouth, not wanting to push him further.

"Well…yeah," he said hesitantly.

She looked at him questioningly. "Why?"

He looked pained. "Look, Courtney."

She looked up using only her eyes; her face remained tilted towards her bowl of food.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be following you like this. I don't know if you know this Courtney, but Trent, Geoff, Tyler, DJ, and well…me, we're worse than you think."

She was confused. "I don't see…"

He put his hand on the table, clenching and unclenching it impulsively. "I didn't think so. You're too good."

Courtney wasn't sure if it was a compliment. She had nothing else to say. She reached to take a bite and realized the bowl was empty. Sarah swooped in, took the bowl, and handed Duncan the check. He already had the bill in his hand. He half-smiled, obviously he was tense. She seemed confused by his change in mood.

"Keep the change," he said smoothly.

"S-sure," she stuttered, muddled by his low tone. "You have a good night."

Neither of them replied or talked at all as they both silently got into Duncan's car. Courtney felt self conscious; Duncan was looking at her, and not just her face. She pulled her knees up to her chin and rested her head on her arms.

The road whizzed by. Courtney kept her eyes on the road ahead of her, biting her lip.

"Why did you turn Justin down?" Duncan said suddenly, turning the scorching force of his eyes on her.

Courtney remembered, she narrowed her eyes. "I don't like him. Thanks for making him ask me."

Duncan turned his eyes to his hand, which was still on the driving lever. "So…you're not going with anyone?"

Courtney decided to tell the truth. "Well, Cody told everyone I was going with him."

Duncan looked confused, and a little angry. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice a bit strained.

"I said no," Courtney answered quickly. "Partly because I didn't know until Bridgette told me a few hours ago."

The muscles in his forearms disappeared as he stopped gripping so tightly.

"Courtney, I'm not so sure about Mount Shasta anymore," Duncan said after a moment of quiet.

Courtney looked at him, resting her cheek sideways on her knee. "Why not?" Her voice went up an octave at the end.

She saw his small smile in the darkness. "Because I don't think I'm safe to you, sunshine."

"Duncan, nothing you do with Trent and Geoff can be that bad," Courtney said dismissively.

Duncan looked at her. "You don't know half of it."

Courtney couldn't think of anything that bad, but she remained silent. She was sorry when the porch light of her house came into view.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" she said, glad it was dark.

Duncan smiled, slightly. "Yeah."

"Um…good." Curse herself, bad with words.

"I know you can't wait to see me, princess," he said, turning the car off.

Unwillingly, Courtney opened the door and stepped out.

"Uh, thanks for the ride," Courtney said, pressing her thumb into her thigh.

"Anytime," he said, closing the car door after her.

His hand went to the drive lever, then her turned to her. "I meant that. Anytime."

The car skidded slightly as it turned sharply into darkness.

Courtney walked, slightly dazed, into the house. Her mom was sitting in front of the television, watching the Discovery Channel.

"Hey, sweetie," her mom said, looking a little surprised. "It's only eight-thirty. I thought you said you'd be out till ten?"

"Oh, yeah…" Courtney trailed off. "Well, Gwen didn't feel so well, so we dropped her off and it wasn't any fun with just the two of us."

"Oh." Her mom smiled, then frowned. "Hey, where'd you get that sweatshirt?"

Courtney's eye widened and she put a hand to the white X on the front of the jacket. "Uh, I borrowed it from…Gwen."

"Hmm. Seems a bit big for her, don't you think?" she laughed. "Well, you kids and your baggy clothing."

"Yeah," Courtney agreed. "Well, 'night."

"Night, honey." Her mom looked slightly puzzled by Courtney's going to sleep so early, but decided it was just the abnormal teen behavior.

Courtney sat on the bed in her room, taking off the jacket and folding it on her hand. She put her head on it. It smelled comfortably of mint.

She could gather only so much about Duncan:

He was dangerous. That much was clear. She didn't know much about him at all, who knew what he did with Geoff and Trent?

He had obviously done something he didn't want her to know about.

She could, _possibly, _be in love with him.


	7. Chapter 7

DODGING THE BULLET

**DODGING THE BULLET**

A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY

_A/N: I sure hope you enjoy fluff, cause there's a lot in this chapter. It's basically my version of the time when Bella and Edward went to that meadow in the woods, only this is on Mount Shasta. And the first kiss, possibly. I have to see how it goes. Also, since APDubb said they were getting a bit OOC (note: I'm not mad, I like helpful reviews), I hope that Courtney and Duncan seem a bit more in character this chapter._

_Songs for this chapter:_

Skinny Dipping, _by _The Plain White T's

Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough for the Two of Us, _by _My Chemical Romance

Your Call, _by _Secondhand Serenade

Give Me a Chance, _by _The Plain White T's

Viva La Vida, _by _Coldplay

Love Remains the Same, _by _Gavin Rossdale

_Well, this chapter's pretty much going to blow, so hold on for the long run. Like, I mean it._

_(I'm so tired but I refuse to go to sleep—it took a few tries to spell 'Chemical'. I mean, Chemucak? You guys must be so envious.)_

_Oh, and SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE!! I'm not allowed on the computer on weekdays, so most likely I'll update on Fridays/weekends, and I'll write new chapters on Sunday…_

_CHICAGO718_

_--_

_CHAPTER SEVEN: CLOSE ENOUGH_

_--_

Courtney woke up suddenly, feeling the gentle, rhythmic pattern of rain against her window. She had fallen asleep on Duncan's sweatshirt, folded like a pillow; her sense of smell was temporarily permeated with mint. She liked it, more than she should have.

_No, _she told herself strictly. _He's off-limits. He even said so. Too dangerous. Besides, there are so many pretty girls at Pasquada High. Heather, or Lindsay for example. _

That reassured her. They were friends, Duncan and her. That much was clear. He had saved her, twice. The very instance was bound to bring some sort of mutual bond between two people, the victim and the savior, a sort of forced relationship that was in retaliation to keeping someone alive. It meant not a thing.

Courtney still couldn't help but remember the primal, envious look that had crossed Duncan's face when Justin had been touching her. It was a situation Courtney wasn't accustomed to. Sure, she wasn't bad looking, pretty by many standards, but nothing compared the impeccable, polished beauty of Lindsay, or even Bridgette. It was strange, being the object of affection of two, and by no means bad-looking, guys. Well, three, if you counted Cody, but he was more like a hanger-on--not an option. Not that if he was she would choose him.

Then there was that thing about Duncan's eyes, the scorching force of their intimidating, haunting blue. That time when he had looked at her in the car, it was a moment that was pretty much engrained in her mind.

She breathed in deeply: thinking about him was making her breathing become shallow and jagged.

_Oh, no_, she thought. _I don't like him. We're FRIENDS, and not even because I want us to be! He saved me! That's bound to cause something! He's just an ignorant jerk, and a pig, not to mention. Remember that time when he tried to get Heather…_

Ugh.

_What the _hell. _I'm serious. I even admitted to myself I was nearly in love with him last time I saw him. What is _wrong_ with me? He's just some…guy who happened to save my life…numerous times…_

And once again, ugh. She couldn't even realize that she was herself; she was in a different body or something. Not in a million years would her old self gone all over a guy because he…saved her life…

Had he had to do that? If he hadn't saved her, she wouldn't feel like she was in debt to him.

Courtney assumed Mount Shasta was still on, he had said 'anytime', even if he had said previously he wasn't so sure. She felt stupid to herself, like it wasn't her, in a different skin. Even she had said to herself she didn't like him. She didn't want him. It was he who had suggested the idea. She remembered what she had said yesterday about seeing him the next day, which was today, Mount Shasta day. She felt stupid. Of course she would have seen him. He had probably been smirking all the way home.

She bid goodbye to her mom as she left for work, and sat, waiting anxiously on the steps. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the doorbell rang.

She got up, tugging her striped gray tank top further down on her hips, touching the ribbon in her hair, and opened the door.

Duncan was leaning against the doorframe, casual as ever in a black jacket with a silver lightning streak down the center, and jeans.

"Hi," Courtney said. She was momentarily dazed by his pale skin on the minimal light of the dark sky.

"You ready?" he asked, registering her.

"Um, yeah," she said nervously. A good few hours alone with Duncan. It would be interesting, that's for sure.

He held the door open for her, like a gentleman. She had to make sure not to get any part of her stuck in the door. Luckily, she didn't. The jeans made it impossible for her to pull her legs up to her chest, so she settled for resting her elbow against the leather jutting out beneath her window and resting her head on it, drumming her fingertips against her chin.

"Remember what I said about me not being safe?" he asked aloud, suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Mm-hmm," Courtney muttered, not wanting to bring it up, again.

"I was telling the truth."

"I know," she answered.

"After this whole thing I don't think we should do this anymore," he said, pressing the button to stop the song 'Viva La Vida' coming from the radio.

Courtney didn't answer.

"I don't want anything bad to happen to you," he said proprietarily. "I'm kind of a magnet for trouble."

"But you saved me," Courtney couldn't help but bring up. She downcast her eyes to her seat. "That's twice now."

He smirked slightly. "Let's not try for a third, okay?"

Courtney frowned. "What do you mean by magnet for trouble?"

He looked at her; a swiftly passing glance like it had been done by accident. "Well, Trent got on the wrong side of this guy, Derrick, a few years ago. He and his, uh…'gang'—" He drew the quotations in the air — "Well, they associate Trent with me and Geoff, so they're kind of, um, 'after us'."

"After you?"

"Uh, yeah, they pretty much stalk us," he laughed.

"Aren't you worried?" Courtney asked, biting her nails out of habit.

"Not really." He said it coolly, like being stalked by a bunch of psycho, revenge-crazy teenagers was no big deal.

Courtney tried to digest that. Well, apparently Duncan was stronger than her, at least in that regard.

"Are we there yet?" she asked after a few more minutes. It sounded juvenile as soon as it came out.

"Few minutes," he assured her.

She tapped her heel against the seat. She was getting nervous, for no reason. Gosh. It was just friends going to somewhere together. As _friends. _Sheesh, she needed to relax. Nonetheless, even as she chanted 'friends' in her head numerous times, her palms started to grow cold. She clenched them into fists, pressing them hard against her ankles, feeling her knuckles press into her bone.

If Duncan noticed he decided not to comment. Still there was a knowing smirk on his face as he eyed her tensed hands.

He pulled up next to a tree and put it in park. Courtney stared at the tree in front of him.

"Hey, is that legal?" she asked cautiously.

He smirked. "Babe, I do illegal things all the time. Don't worry about it."

She didn't doubt it. Getting out of the car, she slammed the door and stared at the vast mountain. It wasn't exactly pretty, it was sharp and craggy and a rather dull shade of gray. But it was really tall and the sky behind it was pink with the rising sun. She smiled to herself, but added, "Don't call me babe."

"Whatever, _sunshine,_" he said sarcastically. "Now get going, I don't have all day."

"Don't you?" she asked.

"No, I have a life," he said, but there was a half-smile on his face. So he was joking.

She was glad she had worn tennis shoes. There were a few trees haphazardly planted in clumps around the mountain. She wasn't breathless; she paced herself carefully, making sure not to look at Duncan. She could hear him, nearly-silent, behind her, and she could feel the force of his gaze on her back. She felt so…so _exposed. _She wished she had worn more than a tank top. Self-consciously, she pulled her shirt past her jeans' pocket.

"Hey, stop," he said behind her. She did. "We're here."

Courtney looked ahead. All she saw was trees.

"No, over there," he said, putting a finger under her chin, and turning her head in the direction. Her heart beat out-of-time in her chest.

_Friends, _she reminded herself.

He had directed to her a rocky ledge jutting about twenty feet out, far, far from the ground. Funny, she had thought the distance was so much shorter.

"T-there?" she asked. _Oh my God, _she thought. _We're so…high._

"There," he finalized. "Why? Scared?"

"No," she defended quickly. "It's just we're so…uh…high."

"Don't be stupid," he scoffed. "I drove you all the way here. You're seeing what I want you to see."

Then, without her consent, he picked her up bridal-style and started walking.

"Put me down!" she shouted, kicking and attempting to pound on his chest.

He grinned and put her down on the ledge. She looked down and backed away. "I hate it when you do that."

"Get used to it, darling," he said.

She blushed. What did that mean?

Now that she was up, she did realize California looked really incredible from a distance: the blue ocean lapping on the edges of a white strip of sand, the surf shacks and houses specks from such a height, rolling green hills and neat green palm trees lining black bars of road.

"Nice," she commented. That didn't even begin to describe it. The orange circle of sun was perfectly halved out of sight and peeking from behind the ocean in her view, making everything glow. She thought she had seen something like this in a commercial.

"Yeah," he replied offhandedly. But he wasn't looking at California. He was looking at her.

"I meant the view," she clarified, her cheeks going red.

He didn't say anything. She bit her lip and turned back over to the sky. It was becoming blue again, fading to white as it reached higher, tipping and arcing over her head. It was overwhelming. She didn't realize how close to the sky she was, or how far away she was when she was on the ground.

"See what I meant when I said I wanted you to say this?" he piped up.

"Hmm," she said, letting out her usual sound when she was thinking. It was weird, being this high up with so much air and space. It was marring her sense of thought. She felt a little drunk with so much space and freedom. How come the ground wasn't like this?

"Are you okay, princess?" Duncan asked, eyeing her warily. She realized she had gone a bit glaze-eyed.

"Oh, yeah, fine," she said hastily, wishing the blood would stop rushing to her face. She could practically feel it rushing through her veins to her cheeks.

_It's just Duncan, _she said to herself. _Get a grip, Court._

Just Duncan? Somehow those two words didn't sound right together.

She stared at the dark rock beneath her, examining how her shoes moved as she wiggled her toes.

After a while, after Duncan hadn't said anything, she turned around, and was surprised that her face was only a foot away from Duncan's chest. She looked up. He wasn't looking at her, thought his knee was touching the back of her leg, and his hand was uncomfortably close to her waist, kind of like he was itching to hold her hips in his hands. She was surprised by how much this bothered/elated her. She inched away, scared about what was to come.

He looked slightly disappointed, but he said nothing, only backed up to the end of the ledge and leaned against the rocks, staring at her back and putting one foot against the mountain; hands in his pockets.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked him after staring at the waves lap at shore for a few minutes.

"Depends," he said seriously.

"Do you like Heather?" she asked, feeling stupid. What? Now she was pretending to own him, too?

He looked actually sober as he pondered. "Guess not."

"What about Lindsay?" Courtney couldn't help adding.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p'.

"Anyone?" she asked, half-hopefully.

"One person," he said.

"Oh." She decided not to probe any further. It wasn't her, for sure. It was none of her business anyway.

She checked her watch, and was surprised that four hours had passed, and they hadn't said more than a few words to each other. She hadn't embarrassed herself too much, thankfully, like tripping over her own feet.

"Oh, shoot," she muttered after a minute, turning around and bounding down the mountain, taking the rocks two at a time and trying not to slip.

"What's wrong?" he asked, following her.

"I completely forgot, I have to be home by two," she explained, still walking. "I have this thing; my mom has this speech she likes to recite over the phone to me about achievement and high standards. It's really important to her."

She could almost hear him roll his eyes. "You lead an exciting life."

"Hey, it's not like I like it," Courtney complained. "She's really—ouch."

So much for not tripping over her own feet. She had dislodged her shoe in a pebble and fell down, luckily not face-first, at least her legs were still behind her feet.

"What a klutz," Duncan smirked, extending a hand to help her up. She put her shoe back on and blushed.

"Gee, thanks," she muttered, hopping up and not taking his hand.

That's when she realized how disturbingly close her face was from his. And it's not like he was backing away. She was frozen in place, the weirdly magnetic force of his eyes keeping her there. Curse her nonexistent willpower. He had that primal look again, staring at her closely as if trying to figure out something his eyes couldn't see.

In one sudden movement, his arms were on her waist, and he was kissing her neck, his hand traveling down her leg like he couldn't get enough of her at once. Then his lips went to hers, moving against them, his tongue forcing entrance. Courtney's lips automatically started moving as well out of instinct.

She was surprised by the force of his wanting; his mouth on hers was hungry and fierce, his rough lips demanding her response.

It felt so good and bad at the same time. It was wrong but she wanted more. It was wrong and she was a good girl. It was just wrong.

She shut her eyes, tight. She had no idea if this was just part of his hormonal nature, or if this was out of feeling. She wouldn't take a chance, or by any means, let him screw around. So she did what her mind (but not her heart) told her to do. She pushed him away.

He looked surprised, but he kept his cool and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Sorry," Courtney said, turning away and walking further down the mountain so that now Duncan's car was in view.

She really had no idea why she'd done that. Maybe it was her pride.

"Babe, it's your pride," Duncan said from behind her. "You'll come around."

"Pig," she replied, reaching the tree that his car was parked. She got in, regretting the moment that she had pushed him away.

"I'll never understand chicks," Duncan muttered, getting in on the driver's side and closing the door behind him.

"I won't come around," Courtney said firmly.

He looked at her, half a smile visible on his face. "_Darling, _you kissed me back."

She frowned. "You were forcing it."

"Sure," he said skeptically. The road passed for a while. Nothing seemed as amazing from where they were at.

"How many nicknames do you have for me anyway?" Courtney remarked bitterly.

"Count: darling, sweetheart, babe, sunshine, princess…"

"Shut up." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, rubbing her bare shoulders. She wished that the ride home was shorter, but she also wished he would kiss her again. She was confused about what exactly she wanted. What did she want?

She turned on the radio and listened as the song came on:

_Half the time the world is ending_

_The truth is I am done pretending_

_I, never thought that I, had anymore to give_

_Pushing me so far_

_Here I am without you_

_Drink to all that we have lost_

_Mistakes we have made_

_Everything will change_

_But love remains the same_

She muttered, 'shit', under her breath and turned the radio off. Duncan smirked.

"You know, some people would call that fate," he said.

"Others would call it a coincidence," she glared.

"Believe what you want, sweetheart." He opened the car door and then walked around to open hers. "We're here."

It was only after his car was out of sight that the full force of the situation hit her.

They had kissed. They had _kissed. They had kissed. _

What did that make them? He had kissed her. Thus, that didn't mean she necessarily wanted what kissing usually meant. Love.

Duncan? In love? With her? That was logical. Not.

_A/N: Well, I liked the actual kiss, I didn't like the chapter. It moved to fast. They spent way too little town on the actual mountain. Oh well. Enjoy._


	8. Chapter 8

DODGING THE BULLET

**DODGING THE BULLET**

A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY

_A/N: Once again, sorry for the late update. School is so hectic, and my Latin teacher is so mean. My parents won't even let me get on for fifteen minutes during the week, so this story might take a while…_

_Songs for this chapter:_

Can't Stop the World, _by _Gavin Rossdale

This Love, _by _Maroon 5

She Will Be Loved, _by _Maroon 5

_This chapter is pretty much Courtney returning to school, wondering about Duncan, and her friends asking her about him. Enjoy, if you can. Please R&R me if you think I should change the rating to M. I don't think so, they're not going to go that far yet, but there are heavy hints._

_Not much actual DC, but there are implications about Courtney's…er…well, true feelings about him. Though she refuses to admit that._

_Oh, and sorry to the author of 'Fortuitous' (I don't have your name in front of me, sorry). I know the beginning and middle bits sound a bit like yours, but I swear, I was writing it and then you published that chapter. I was inspired by a moment in 'Breaking Dawn', and then I thought the next part should includes bit about a dream, because that's what happens in Twilight. You know…about Edward…and Jacob turning into a werewolf…in that dream?_

_Warning: Chapter contains not-quite-explicit, but still rather uh, mature, content._

_CHICAGO718_

_--_

_CHAPTER EIGHT: DREAMS, OR RATHER, NIGHTMARES_

_--_

Courtney let out a small scream as her head popped up from her nearly-soaked pillow, breathing heavily, sweating through every pore of her body. Ew. That had been _disgusting_. She kicked away her sweaty, sticky sheets, but she seemed to be tangled in them from all the thrashing that had gone on. Her heart was beating out of time, uncontrollably, her blood pressure higher than normal, her pulse jumping erratically in her wrist and neck. She could practically feel her veins throbbing, throwing jagged purple lines in zigzag patterns across her now white-marbled body, due to the lack of running blood. She didn't need to look in the mirror to know that she was severely red in the face.

That had been so unlike her. No! Those kinds of dreams were for those disturbed teenagers who need sex at least once a day, or had a severe lack of such content in their lives. She was not desperate like that. Sensuality was not, by any means, a big part of her life, if a part at all. But that dream had been…gosh, her parents would be appalled. She was horrified with herself. What was wrong with her? What was happening?

She hated this. Normally memories of dreams were cloudy, coming back in minimal, unclear bursts. This one, however, was vivid. And X rated.

She couldn't even put it in description; the flashes of images clear in mind's eye, but such an enigma that she couldn't put it into words if she tried. It was so weird, the unbearable heat, and the passion, lust, and desire were flaming in the pit of her stomach, threatening to scorch her throat. Heat was building in her head. She clawed at her skin, feeling herself sprout imaginary rashes.

Of course, it starred Duncan. Who else would it be? Who else could take such a toll on her imagination?

She closed her eyes but that didn't work. The images became only clearer; becoming longer and more flowing into one distinct thought. Those sounds she had been making in her dream she hadn't even known she'd been capable of. It had come from deep inside her, half panting, moaning, and a sort of purring put together to form one lustful sound that Courtney didn't even know existed. But it sure was a sound of pure pleasure.

She doubted the dream would come true, she wouldn't allow it. Still, the thought of her, the picture of him near (or in, due to some cases) her body, and specific parts of it was perfectly mapped in her head.

Words to describe the possibly indescribable Duncan had given her in the dream: passion…lust…desire…overwhelming heat…pleasure…and sensation. The words were a throaty hiss in her head.

_You're growing up Courtney, _said the angel within. _Don't worry, it's just a dream you have when you start becoming…ah, mature._

_Don't be stupid, _said the devil on the opposite side. _It's the hormones. He turned you on, even in your imagination._

_It was just a nightmare, _said the angel in defense.

_Yep, just an appallingly graphic, dirty, full-of-ecstasy nightmare._

Shit! What was happening to her? Her brain? Her mind? Her thoughts? Her body?

Courtney distractedly pulled on a pair of jeans and a blue striped tee shirt where the scoop neck hung off both her shoulders and a silver star in the middle. She brushed her hair. When she stared in the mirror, she seemed different to herself, like she was older, more informed about the secret world of guys. Of course she was no more informed about guys then she had been a week ago, but still, it felt that way. She had been…uh…kissed by one of the guys in 'The Clique'. She had also had a dream about…well…being with him in more than one way…dammit. She had a hard time admitting it to herself. She didn't want him! He had kissed her!

She jumped up and bounced on the balls of her feet out of pure adrenaline and nerves. What did this mean? She hated the whole situation. She thought back.

_This is all his fault, _she complained in her head, _if he hadn't saved me, or asked me to Mount Shasta, and hadn't kissed me, we would have remained in the same spot we were before: archenemies. I wish it was back that way._

But did she? She didn't even know.

She bit into a cinnamon granola bar, too distracted to have an appetite. For some reason she couldn't fathom, she brushed her teeth using the stuff that tints the plaque blue, and then used two gulps of mouthwash. Her breath was so minty she could practically feel it stinging her eyes. She drank a glass of icy water; it stung her throat where the mint remained.

She heard her mom's engine sputter and cough, then leave with a short burst of gas.

Oh, God. Would she walk to school? It was so unlike her mother to leave her stranded, or forget something.

Okay, logic. If she ran five miles an hour…school was three miles away. There was no way she could make it. Twenty minutes till school started.

She ran downstairs. Maybe her bike was still big enough?

The sound of an engine cut off her frantic thoughts. She turned around. A black truck was in the driveway. Her heart rose to her throat then dropped to her toes. A few inappropriate images flashed into her eyes.

She walked around to the driver's seat and stood on her tiptoes to reach the window. "What are _you _doing here?" she asked, heart beating crazily, suddenly imagining him with no clothes. _Stop it!_

Duncan shrugged. "I saw your mom's car leave when I was passing by; I thought I'd give you a lift."

Courtney looked at him suspiciously. "That was convenient."

"Yep. So are you going to get in or not?" Duncan asked, unrepentant.

Courtney sighed. She had no choice. She rounded the car and got in the back seat. She was afraid that Duncan might try something on her. She was afraid her nightmare would come true.

He looked around at her in the backseat. "You should sit in the front."

She glared. "Why?"

He got out of the car, not answering. She inched away. Still, he managed to lift her up and sit her in the front seat, after much protest on her part.

"You are so _pushy. _I don't see why I'm in the front anyway," Courtney complained as he started driving.

He was silent again, eyeing her nearly-bare shoulders. She internally hated herself for wearing the shirt and put a hand to her flaming cheeks. She grasped the shoulders of her shirt and pulled inward so her shoulders wouldn't show. He rolled his eyes and looked away, pulling into a spot in the parking lot and getting out. She walked unwillingly with him into the school. Not that she wanted to, but he took the shortest route, and she couldn't be late for calculus. Still, she couldn't help looking at him and imagining him with…no…_damn…_clothes.

"By the way," Duncan remarked, shaking her out of her little fantasy, "Geoff told me Bridgette wants to know what's going on with you. And me."

Courtney bit her lip. "What should I say?" _I've been having a few increasingly vulgar dreams about him?_

Duncan shrugged. "Whatever she wants to hear." He took a piece of her hair and tucked it behind her shoulder. Her heart beat hyperactively. She imagined that her bra straps were melting off her skin…_oh, Jesus, help me._

They walked into the busy hall quietly. Duncan turned to her. "Oh, yeah, sorry about yesterday and…what I did…and all. I couldn't control myself."

He meant the whole kiss. Courtney's cheeks could have lit a fire. "It's fine."

"Okay, then…" he trailed off awkwardly. "Well, see you."

"Yeah." She nodded equally as uncomfortably and turned in to her calculus room.

Bridgette was in the back row, practically bouncing off her seat with eagerness. Courtney had no choice but to sit next to her.

"Tell me _everything,_" Bridgette demanded.

Courtney sighed. "Duncan?" Just the word brought her back to the morning, when she had woken up in a cold sweat. It was like a horror movie.

"Yes."

"We aren't dating." _However, I have had _it_ with him, in my dreams._

"Oh, please." Her expression was skeptical.

"We aren't!" _Panting, feeling, sensation…_

"So why did I see him drop you off this morning?"

"Cause I didn't have a ride." _Touching, pleasure, desire…_

She bit her lip so hard that she felt the skin break. She quickly moved her arm to cover it with her sleeve. She didn't want Bridgette suspecting something. The girl was awfully good with conclusions.

"I heard you two went to Mount Shasta together. That's something," Bridgette reminded her.

"Not a date. As friends," Courtney insisted through her sleeve. Friends? How stupid. Her nightmare, the desire…the feeling came back with a vengeance, along with strong nausea.

_Hor-mones, _sang the internal devil. _Not nausea._

"Yeah, right."

Courtney was exasperated. "If you don't believe me, I won't bother telling you."

Bridgette rolled her eyes. "You're kidding. I think something happened."

Courtney bit her lip and leaned closer to Bridgette's ear. "Okay, here's something. You should have seen the waitress flirting with him at Sain Havannah. It was over the top."

Bridgette gaped. "You went? What did he do?"

"He didn't really pay her any mind."

"Was she pretty? Was she young?"

"Yeah, and she was like, twenty."

Bridgette's eyes glowed. "That's good." She smiled hopefully. "Anything else?"

Courtney blew out her breath heavily. Bridgette squinted. "Man, why's your breath so minty?"

Courtney blushed. "Uh, nothing. Alright, I'll tell you, but don't tell anyone. Not Gwen."

Bridgette mimed zipping her lips shut. "I won't."

"Okay. When we went to Mount Shasta, he…uh…kissed me." The last two words were so quiet that she wasn't sure Bridgette heard. She added the rest of the dialogue in her head: _Oh! And by the way! I also had a dream about having sex with him! Isn't that dandy?_

"He kiss-mphhh!" Courtney desperately pressed Bridgette's mouth with her hand as Bridgette finished her sentence beneath it. "Oh my God! That's so sweet."

"Shush! It is not!" Courtney said, kicking the table leg out of frustration and bottled up want. She kept on saying the sentence about her dream to herself; even in her thoughts it seemed impossibly bad. She tried to insert it in a few example sentences, but it still was so wrong that it fit nowhere.

"I just love those relationships where you pretend to hate each other but you really like each other," Bridgette gushed, sounding a bit like Lindsay.

"Yeah well…" Courtney couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Are you going to prom with him?" Bridgette demanded. "I heard they're holding in the Charlatan ballroom."

"As in the Charlatan _hotel_?" Courtney asked, mouth agape. The Charlatan hotel ballroom was expensive. So was the Charlatan itself. Its huge glass dome ceiling, the fancy blue-and-gold wallpaper, the black marble dance floor…it was romantic, to be sure. Which was why she wasn't going.

"Yep." Bridgette looked happy. "Geoff already asked me."

"Wow. Great. I'm not going."

Bridgette lowered her voice as the teacher entered the room. "Why not?"

"Too intimate," she confided. Like she hadn't had intimate thoughts about him.

"Sheesh, you kissed already, get a grip," Bridgette said, overlooking this apparently lame excuse.

"Shh! Does the whole world need to know?" Courtney hissed. "Just because you feel no need to keep your love life a secret doesn't mean you have a right to expose mine."

"I do not expose my love life," Bridgette said defensively.

"Please," Courtney reminded her. "You and Geoff were nearly naked in the hallway when you were kissing a few days ago. Your top was halfway off. He was pulling at your zipper."

Bridgette reddened. "Oh. That."

"Yes! That! Your love life is not as secret as mine!"

"So you admit you do have one," Bridgette said superiorly.

"No, Bridge! You take everything the wrong way," Courtney groaned, aggravated.

"Are you in love with him?" Bridgette asked abruptly.

"No," she insisted. "At least, I don't think so. Like, whenever he tries to…uh…like, I don't know, get me turned on, I try to push him away, but inside I kind of enjoy it, okay? But not like it…like it. I don't want to be, like, sexually harassed or anything."

"It's not sexual harassment if he rightly justifies his desire of it and you agree," Bridgette explained.

"Gee, thanks, but I don't agree."

Courtney thanked the world when the bell rang. She picked up her books and sped out of the room hastily, not wanting more cross-examination from Bridgette. Everything Bridgette had been saying was bringing another awfully clear popup of unwanted, and graphic, images into her head.

Maybe she could go to the nurse. But no, nurses could only help with physical problems, this was a mental one. A psychologist? No, she'd rather die than confide in one of those weirdos about her most personal thoughts.

She sat down on a cloth covered bench, pulling her knees up and resting her forehead on them. Maybe if she just thought about the dream in its entirety, she would stop getting flashes of her thoughts and just forget about it.

_Okay_, she forced herself. _You've got to do this to get rid of it. Think. One: How did he make you feel? Two: How did you react? Three: What did you want from him?_

_1: Incredibly lustful, wanting, delirious with pleasure, like I could rule the world._

Not good.

_2: By returning the passion, heat, and desire…_

Worse.

_3: I wanted him to continue. I wanted him never to stop—_

O-kay, stop it right there! She didn't need to hear any more. It obviously wasn't working, she was even more disturbed now than before. And had a dying curiosity of what was really under Duncan's clothes…

_I don't…_she insisted. _Please, no, I really don't like him, it's the aftereffects of my dream…or rather, nightmare._

_Please, stop! _She begged herself, slinging her backpack onto her shoulders. Thank God her mother was waiting there instead of Duncan.

"How was school, darling?" her mother asked while pulling out of the school.

"Fine, Mom, please, I just want to go home," Courtney pleaded, thoroughly exhausted.

Her mom gave her a funny look. "Are you alright, dear?"

"Yes, fabulous," Courtney informed her. "I'm just really tired, I want to take a nap."

"Okay," her mother said, shrugging.

As soon as she was safe in her room, she flung herself onto her bed, pulling the covers over her head, shaking like a three year old waiting for monsters in the closet.

She wanted to scream. She needed a sort of portal to drain away this increasing want of him. But what? Having _it _with him wouldn't do it, she refused to it, not to mention that if she did _it, _she'd probably want more instead of having her needs pacified.

_I DON'T! _she screamed to herself silently. _I DON'T WANT HIM! I DON'T WANT TO HAVE _IT_! IT'S THE DAMN DREAM! PLEASE, STOP IT! STOP IT WITH THE THOUGHTS! IT'S NOT ME, IT'S A DEMON! TEEN PREGNANCY IS DANGEROUS ANYWAY!_

Now, she wanted to cry. But she would not let tears fall. She would not be weak. She would not want a thing. She would not have another dream similar.

_A/N: Gosh, how bad was that? Thank you, reviewers, for remaining eternally faithful, even if I suck. I hope this chapter wasn't too graphic, otherwise people will hate me. Should I switch the rating? Tell me! Or if its too similar to 'Fortuitous', and too explicit, I can delete this chapter and write another. No flames, I beg you. Try to tell me in a nice way. Or flame if you dare. Whatever._


	9. Chapter 9

DODGING THE BULLET

**DODGING THE BULLET**

A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY

_A/N: Once again, this is partly to do with the dream. If you don't like the dream don't read this chapter. More angel/devil fights I warn you. LOL. This chapter might be slightly better, slightly worst, than last. Depends on how you look at it._

_Songs for today (you don't really have to listen, but search up the lyrics…):_

- Things I'll Never Say, _by _Avril Lavigne

_The words fit so perfectly to the song. _

_No actual dialogue this time. Sorry. But thoughts…oh, there will be thoughts. (insert cackle here)_

_Next chapter there will be some dialogue, still some mature dreams and thoughts. Please enjoy bunnyboo, as I read you enjoy these kinds of stories. I'm sort of weirded out with myself. Like how did I even know this much about _it_? Oh, yeah, the 'talk' in health class. Thanks Coach Kelly. And a little help from the author of Fortuitous. (So sorry if I got your name wrong, really! You're an awesome writer. Continue with Fortuitous! I will die if I do not get an update! Usually I post as soon as I'm done with a chapter, but I guess we're all different. And thanks for saying I have a great mind…but really, you have no idea…hehe.)_

_Any ideas? Please either PM me or review. _

_Anyway, this is the part where it starts drifting a little from the Twilight plot, but the end (okay, if you don't want to know, don't read this), where Edward takes Bella to prom, shall remain the same. I gave you that huge hint last time with the Charlatan ballroom._

_CHICAGO718_

_--_

_CHAPTER NINE: DISTURBIA_

_--_

Courtney lay in the dark, tortured. Her mind was running too fast to focus on any thing, but she could still sense what her thoughts were zeroed in on. She was too scared to sleep, afraid of slipping into that passion-filled dream (or nightmare, however you wanted to look at it) world. Her lids were heavy with drowsiness, as if her top and bottom eyelids were magnetic and attracting each other. But she wouldn't be weak and sink into unconsciousness. All she had to do keep herself awake was to think of the consequences that would occur if she actually fell asleep. The touching, the feeling…self explanatory. And her eyes would pop wide open, she would take deep breaths, and readjust herself for the least desirable sleep position.

Eventually, she was forced to sit straight up so as not to fall asleep. She checked her clock, the red numbers flashing in the darkness.

Red.

Color of lust, passion…

Oh, Jesus, must everything remind her of everything?

Anyway, it was eleven-thirty. Most teens would think this was early, but she was usually sleepy around ten, so this was complete torture. She took a firm grasp on top and bottom lids and held them open, resting her elbows on her knees, which were in cross-legged position.

She absolutely…couldn't do this any longer…she was so sleepy…her brain was mingled, unclear…her trains of thought were being cut off…

She leaned back into her pillow and fell into, possibly, the deepest sleep of her life. And the most disturbed one as well. If she could help it, she would have definitely have bolted upright by then.

_The acute sensation of someone against her neck, bodies intertwined, sheets tangled around then, the heat of an oppressive summer day, even if the room was fairly cold…and gosh, the pleasure racking through her body was unattainable any other way…no way, he had a tongue ring…the unbearable want, need, desire…_

"No!" she screamed, jolting upright abruptly. "Stop haunting my dreams!"

She looked around. Daylight was now streaming through the white curtains. She was trembling uncontrollably. She sat up on her elbows, though they were slippery with perspiration. She glanced at the clock, six thirty.

_Oh my freaking…oh gosh…not twice in a row…_

"Oh, shit," she groaned. "Not again."

She grumbled, standing. Surprisingly, she was shaky on her feet, like a newborn baby deer. Her feet were shaking on the carpet, her knees knocking together. Her ankles suddenly buckled, and she landed in a pile at her own feet of trembling limbs and panicky thoughts.

_No, no, no…_she begged herself silently, almost crying. _Why me? I'm so inexperienced. I shouldn't even know about the things I'm dreaming about. Help me._

_You don't need help. Let him, _the devil hummed.

_No way, you want one of those screwed families whose daughter's pregnant at sixteen?_ the angel scolded.

_What does she want? Have you ever thought that the dreams are a sort of portal where all her deepest desires are sent? _the devil cackled.

_She's too young, _the angel reminded.

_If she really didn't like him then she wouldn't be having these dreams, would she, _the devil finalized.

The angel was silent, for lack of a response.

She opened the window and stuck her head out. Luckily her mom's car wasn't gone yet. The air was hot, muggy, humid. She was instantly reminded of her consistent nightmare.

_Here's what I do, _she thought.

She yanked out a mint green button-up shirt, sealing every button up to her neck, rolling down the sleeves all the way to her wrists, tugging the tails way down her legs. She found her longest pair of jeans, which coincidentally were also the tightest. Nonetheless, she pulled them on, tugging on the waist and thigh seams until a few popped, zipping and buttoning, and pulled down the ankles till they reached mid-foot.

Her mom put down her black, steaming coffee as Courtney walked into the kitchen. "Gee honey, I understand boys in high school are run by their hormones, but do you have to go that far?"

Courtney glared and yanked the wrist of her shirt further down her arm. "Mom, I don't want to take any chances."

"Hey, that reminds me," her mother piped up. "How'd you get to school yesterday? I know I forgot to drive you."

"Um, Bridge drove me," Courtney lied hastily. "She, uh, was…passing…by?"

Her mom nodded sagely. "She really is responsible. Not one of those types. You heard on the news I'm sure, those teen celebrities getting pregnant at your age…silly girls, if you ask me. I'm glad you and your friends aren't like that."

_You don't know half of it, _Courtney growled inside her head.

"Mom, I'll call Bridge, you don't have to drive me. I don't want you to be late," Courtney said, taking her cell phone out of her pocket and dialing Bridgette on speed dial.

"Thanks, honey." Her mom poured the rest of the coffee into the sink, put in some cinnamon gum, kissed Courtney's forehead, and left.

Bridgette picked up on the second ring. "Court?"

"Yeah, hey Bridgette. I need a favor. Give me a ride?" Courtney asked hopefully.

Bridgette sighed. "Sure. But I need something in return."

Courtney arched an eyebrow, though she knew Bridgette couldn't see. "Dare I ask?"

She giggled. "Well, promise to go to the Charlatan with us for prom! It'll be no fun with just me and Gwen and Trent and Geoff."

"I don't dance, Bee," Courtney sighed, referring to Bridgette's kindergarten nickname that she had revealed to Courtney on the second day of school.

"Don't call me that. Besides, you don't have to dance at prom. You can…I don't know, drink punch and talk and stuff."

Courtney blew up her bangs. "Fine. Whatever. I'll go. I don't have a dress, though."

Bridgette's grin was nearly visible even through the phone lines. "I have one for you. My aunt got it for me, she's like, Goth. It should fit you, you're skinnier, and it was tight on me. Besides, Duncan would like it."

A steely dragon breathed fire in her chest, releasing pent-up longing. Courtney clutched her shirt.

"Gee, thanks, Bridgette." She worked to keep her voice steady, calm, nonchalant.

"No problem. You should come over after school, you could try it."

"Whatever. Just pick me up, we're going to be late."

"Be there in five. Gotta jet!" Bridgette said excitedly, hanging up.

So 'jet' wouldn't be cool if Courtney said it, but it still sounded very surfer when Bridgette used it. Courtney picked up her backpack and went outside a few minutes later to meet Bridgette's Prius.

School was insane, crazy, hectic, but only in her mind. Everyone else, it was an ordinary day. Courtney was going mentally off the edge. Graphic, ecstasy-filled thoughts were flooding her head without warning with the simple, ordinary word of 'Duncan', 'prom', 'sleep', 'bed', 'heat'.

"Courtney, are you okay?" Bridgette asked concernedly at the end of the day as they walked out of school to meet her blue Prius.

Of course, she wasn't okay. And if she kept having those nightmares she might never be so again. She had seen Duncan in the hallway on the way out. Even though he just waved casually, her heart thumped in her chest and a vivid image wound its way through her ears and sat itself comfy in her brain, ready to stay for the long run.

"Court!"

Courtney blinked rapidly. "Sorry. No, I'm fine."

"Good, cause we're halfway there."

With a jolt of realization, she realized she had autopiloted herself to the front seat while thinking about her night.

"I had to push you into the car!"

Or not.

"No, no, Bee, I'm fine, I'm just really sleepy." She yawned to accentuate her point.

"I never should have told you that nickname," Bridgette remarked bitterly, pulling into her house.

Her house was sea-themed, painted a very ocean blue with a white frame and white doors and windows. The plaque above the front door read 'Don't Be Crabby' with a small wooden crab frowning and snapping its claws. The garden's supposed soil was white, crystallized sand with small gray stones. The driveway was evenly paved with short green palm trees. A mural done in blue and green flowers was on both sides of the front lawn, separated by the pathway. The flowers were shaped into a circle to represent Earth. Courtney grinned slightly. It was so…Bridgette. Down to earth.

Bridgette led Courtney up to her room, which was painted the same color of the house in a lighter shade. The bottom of her walls were painted in white wave shapes, a white silhouette of a lighthouse on the left wall, and a white silhouetted sun, which was a circle in the upper left hand corner of her rightmost wall. The ceiling had a small window where some wispy white clouds and blue sky were within view. Courtney thought of an escape hatch.

As soon as Courtney's attention switched to Bridgette's various-blue striped bedspread she immediately pictured them tangled up, and the sound of panting, and moaning. She swallowed so hard that it hurt.

"Anderson!" Bridgette barked in a remarkable impression of Coach Page. Courtney jumped. "You're in some other fantasy world."

"Just show me the dress," Courtney said in a nearly-pleading voice. She needed a distraction.

Bridgette dug through her closet, emerging with a black piece of silky material that had been folded up.

It was covered in plastic like it had come back from the dry-cleaners. Bridgette slipped off the layer of plastic and unfolded the dress on the bed.

It wasn't her style, that's for sure. It was black, with a neckline that dipped slightly and hung off the shoulders in a ruffled fashion. Pieces of black crinoline crinkled beneath the skirt of the dress. The back of the garment was supposed to be laced up with black ribbon, and it already was, sealed in a neat bow. A few nearly-invisible seams separated the heart-shaped chest from the skirt. If she held it up against herself she could tell it would come a bit before the knee.

"Ah, and the shoes," Bridgette piped up, diving into her closet once more and returning with a pair of black shoes laced up to the ankle in a similar way to the back of the dress, with heels a ridiculous size.

"That's way too…ah…I don't know, revealing, for me," Courtney complained, choking on the word _revealing_.

"It's sexy. You need more of that. If you don't wear this, what will you wear, your prairie corduroy dress from third grade?" Bridgette said skeptically, though in a good-natured way. "Besides, it's no more revealing than mine."

She returned with a sky blue dress, same size as Courtney's, with spaghetti straps and a thick white ribbon winding around her torso.

"But you look _good,_" Courtney said. "I'll look like some sort of…Gwen. Not that Gwen's bad, but this look would befit her. It's like the wolf wearing a sheep suit, only this is a prudish girl dressed up like some sort of Gothic girl who actually likes to show herself."

"You are what you wear, heard of that?" Bridgette reminded.

"So if I wore a chicken suit would I be a chicken?" Courtney exampled.

"_So_ that's _one_ exception, big deal. You'll look great." Bridgette coached her into the black dress, egging her on little by little.

Courtney stood in front of the mirror, eyes shut.

"Open your eyes. You look great."

She did cautiously. The reflection of the bed was behind her. She refused to think about it.

What she saw was a seemingly pale girl with bloodless lips, but that only matched up with the lack of color of the rest of her skin. The dress showed her curves and hid some as well, the bow in the back was revealing but not in a drastic way. The heart-shaped bodice of the dress gave her normally formless body shape. Her collarbones were apparent on the inside of her shoulders, but not anorexic in any style. In a style that showed she was thin but didn't starve herself. Her ankles looked evenly balanced and skinny; the shoes fit her and didn't hurt when she walked. She looked pretty, and Gothic, which was something she wasn't used to.

The thing was she was normally very tanned, which was good for the whole Cali lifestyle. But with the dress she would have looked ugly. But somehow that deep shade of midnight black in contrast with her normally dark skin caused her to looked radiant, glowing, and pale. How that added up she didn't know. How could this elegant, yet still appealing girl in the mirror be the same person which such dirty thoughts this morning, waking up in a pool of her own sweat, dreaming about having _it_? It didn't make sense.

Bridgette joined her in the mirror. She was surprised that Bridgette even looked slightly awkward in her dress compared to Courtney.

"That dress was made for you," Bridgette gushed.

"Uh…" Courtney couldn't even think of a sufficiently bitter response.

"Here, keep it, seriously. You look so much greater than me."

"Gee, thanks," Courtney managed to sputter. "Drive me home?"

Bridgette crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Go to prom?"

Courtney bit her lip. "Fine. But only if you help me."

"Then I will drive you." Bridgette drove Courtney home and dropped her off with a cool 'See you tomorrow!". As if she had no care in the world. Why couldn't Courtney be like that?

Courtney quickly hung the plastic-wrapped dress in her closet and started running the shower. She needed one. Not because she hadn't taken one in a while, but because she needed to ease her thoughts, which were running a mile a minute.

She undressed and hopped in, staring at the shower wall as it accumulated drops of water. Steam rose from the floor to the ceiling. The even, rhythmic pattern of beads of water hitting her bare back was comforting, easing the tension away, unraveling her knotted muscles, washing stress away through the drain.

She soaped her hands up and started washing. But suddenly her hands weren't really her hands, they were Duncan's, all over her bare body. How was that for hallucinations? The so called 'hands' caressing her naked self was almost enough for Courtney to moan, but she knew, even through her dizzy thoughts, that it was only her and her awful imagination.

She let her hands drop to her sides, and with a little groan, half-pleasure, half-pain, she leaned her head against the dripping shower wall, feeling the water slide down and slip through the space between the wall and her forehead. She wanted to die. She wanted to pass out. She wanted to be far away from horrid California and move back to Jameswood where certainly no boys would take this kind of toll on her. But it was impossible. Her mother liked it here. And Jameswood was all the way in Minnesota. There was no way in hell she could move back there.

She pushed the glass knob and the water issuing from the shower head slowly trickled down to a few steady drops pattering against the tiled floor.

She pressed her entire body against the glass shower door, and it gave way, delivering her to the floor an unclothed, crumpled heap of nerves and skin.

Yanking a towel from the hook, she wrapped herself in soft fluffiness and covered her clothes-less body so that she could dress in peace, without any disturbing thought about…shit …Duncan…or anyone else, for that matter.

She couldn't fathom it. Surely there had been other good-looking boys at Jameswood, but none of them had even made her feel so alone, so adult, so mature, so disgusted.

_A/N: I surprisingly really liked this chapter. And I wrote it in about twenty minutes. How's that for amazing? I wrote 2,000+ words in twenty minutes. Gosh I really love myself…_

_Just kidding. Thank you again (I'm going to attempt this, here) Shinjuri Koroko. Sorry if I got it wrong! I mean it! I love Fortuitous, it's a big inspiration._

_Admittedly I was a bit surprised when you addressed me, and I quote, "DUDE!!" partly because you sound so sophisticated and smart in Fortuitous. But I have my writing side and social side as well. _

_Love you guys! _


	10. Chapter 10

DODGING THE BULLET

**DODGING THE BULLET**

A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY

_A/N: In truth, I wrote the chapters 'Disturbia' and this one in the same day. I have no life, seriously. Who has that much time on her hands? Me, that's who._

_No songs today. Heh. So there, proof I have something to do with my time. I have other things to do that search up songs._

_However, I do have some stories you should read:_

_- _Volunteering, _by _ihavealife

- A Walk to Remember, _by _ihavealife

- Fortuitous, _by _Shinjuri Kokoro (once again, it's probably wrong)

- The New School, _by _DubbleV

- After Years, _by _bubbles968

_There are probably a ton more that are really good, but I'm a little tired so my brain's running slow. Arrest me._

_CHICAGO718_

_--_

_CHAPTER TEN: INSOMNIA_

_--_

Courtney lay frozen on her bed, eyes glassy and wide open, staring into nothing, into darkness. Red lights from her clock swam in front of her eyes.

Unlike last night, she wished she could fall asleep. At least she knew dreams couldn't be controlled. Her mind would wander without her running it. However, she was fully awake and was fully in power of her thoughts, which unsurprisingly were drifting into things they ought not to be.

Closing her seemingly eternally open eyes proved to be impossible. They would fly open impulsively. It was well and true insomnia. She could not sleep. This coming from an overachiever, not able to achieve the thoughtless and unattainable concept of sleep.

She currently was staring into open, bare space, but that was certainly not what she was seeing.

She thought back to her shower earlier that day. The one time she'd been to China, she'd seen a commercial for this raspberry shampoo. Within the commercial, a woman with a perfect body had water dripping down her skin, and even though she was behind a shady, clouded shower screen, Courtney could tell she was undressed. How could people be so open about showing themselves was not believable to her.

She bit her lip hard so she felt blood trickle out, most likely leaving a red trail down her chin and pooling on her pillow. She put a finger, hard, to her lip, hoping to stop the flow. It worked. But the blood, it reminded her of her increasingly consistent dreams about him and _it_. Worlds exploding in pain, pleasure, and passion…

There was officially something wrong with her. She was acting like a sex-starved teen, or was one of those who depended on it.

She wanted to get amnesia. She wanted to stop these crazy wants, these fantasies. She had not yet cried, but she as awfully close.

She wished Duncan had never been dropped from the hell chute into her life.

Uncomfortably, she tugged the strap of her tank top to her mid-arm, rubbing her bare shoulder and breathing onto her bloodied pillow.

She thought she heard a noise in the corner of her room, a sort of coughing, shifting sound. She assumed it was just one of her delusional ideas and disregarded it.

She managed to get her eyes closed, eventually, by doing the vice-versa of her routine yesterday and holding her eyes shut instead of open. And it worked. They stayed that way.

The next time opened her eyes, she was in a room flooded with light from the open window that she had unlocked the night before, hoping fresh air would clear her mind. She'd had another one of her nightmares, but it wasn't as big of a deal this time, it didn't come as a surprise.

She and Duncan always got a bit farther in the dream, a bit more passionate and intimate with each other every night.

She had the sudden and acute remembrance of those hands running up and down her body in the shower the day previous and she got shivers from head to toe.

All of a sudden she was frozen in place, imagining the satisfying and horrifying picture of her and Duncan in the shower…and, God, naked…

She wanted to scream.

She also wanted him. She had to admit it to herself. She would. She whispered it to herself, "I'm in like with Duncan."

_Let's hear that again, _the devil within shouted.

"I'm in _love _with Duncan. Happy?" she asked herself.

The truth was no, unless they got farther in their so far nonexistent relationship.

_Now, young one, _the devil said in a superior tone, though technically the devil was just her on a different side. _To truly admit to liking him, think about your dream last night, in full detail. Enjoy it. Savor it. Wish with all your heart it was true._

_This is stupid, _the angel complained_, _sounding rather un-angelic.

_Okay, _she said to herself, her neutral side, _think about it. Enjoy it. Savor it. Yeah._

She impulsively winced out of habit as the picture of her and _him _together, heated, on a bed, intertwined, the room unseasonably hot. The sounds of pleasure, mainly from her, the panting, moaning, half-purring/sighing noise issuing from the back of her throat, the shots of incredible sensation up and down her leg, flashing like fire up and down, like lightning, like electricity. The acute sense of a being between her legs.

_Enjoy it, _the devil reminded sharply as she cringed.

The beads of sweat trickling down her naked body, his tongue in several places, mainly at her neck. His heat pressed against hers. His longing verses hers. It was hard to tell whose was stronger. The minimal movement but maximum pleasure, it was an incredible feeling. His hands, feeling, touching her in places she ordinarily would have been disgusted with, now seemed comfortable in a passionate way. A way that was so bottled up with wanting, and longing, and needing, that she wanted to scream.

Her eyes opened wide, she realized she had been shutting them and nearly shrieking in a whisper.

That hadn't helped. The devil sighed dejectedly and left. The angel hummed in content and sat down, there to stay. Courtney blew out her breath. She was tired and morbidly horrified with herself. How she could have even admitted it to herself was beyond her understanding.

No bother trying to dress sexy or un-sexy today. She pulled on her usual uniform of jeans and tee shirt, walking downstairs and chewing cinnamon gum for breakfast. She pulled in front of the school and got out of her mom's SUV. Coincidentally Duncan was getting out of his car, along with Geoff and DJ. Geoff and DJ walked into the school, casual and as unlike her as ever. But Duncan stopped and looked right at her. He looked tired, his eyes less bright than usual. Courtney felt her face warming. She wanted to bolt but her feet seemed to be cemented to the ground.

"Hey," he said coolly, walking up to her as soon as Diane had thanked him again for saving Courtney and gave him a too-warm goodbye.

"Hello," she said blandly, wishing, wanting.

"I wanted to say sorry about last night," Duncan admitted.

She gave him a strange look. "Huh? What about last night?"

Duncan looked surprised. "Shit, so you didn't see me…"

Courtney was weirded out. "Uh, no, I was home last night. I don't know what you're talking about…"

His face was expressionless as he explained. "Okay, I couldn't sleep last night. Like, and I was really bored and creeped out cause my parole officer was snoring and whispering in his sleep to some imaginary girl…"

Courtney couldn't help picturing that. Disturbing, much?

"So I took the car and I was driving around, and I passed by your house. And I couldn't help myself. Your window was open, so I climbed that tree and into your room."

Courtney craned her neck out of confusion, and, possibly, happiness. "You _spied _on me?"

Duncan didn't look that sorry. "What? I was bored!"

Courtney thought back to last night. "Hey, wait…you were that noise in the corner, that coughing sound."

"Well, yeah," he said, only slightly embarrassed. "I thought you were about to take off your shirt."

_This could not be any more fitting, _the devil piped up in her head, all of a sudden returning from his mystery vacation.

_Shut up, _the angel replied firmly.

"That was pretty much why I stayed. To see you take your shirt off," Duncan said, half joking.

"Pig," Courtney managed to say.

The moment was seriously awkward. Courtney felt her breathing become shallow.

All of a sudden, Duncan reached up with one finger and traced the shape of her lips, then leaned down and kissed her. As in public, in front of like, twenty kids walking into school. It was brief and chaste, his tongue searching her mouth for only a few seconds, before he turned and walked into the school as if nothing had happened. She could have sworn his hand went under her shirt shoulder for that moment, near her bra strap. God, what was _wrong _with her, dammit!?

Courtney thought her heart stopped beating for a second.

Okay…so that had been totally unexpected. And totally, gosh, disturbing. She'd really have to be more careful about what she did in her sleep.

And one more thing: she was totally turned on. This feeling was further exacerbated by the kiss, the feeling of his tongue in her mouth and his hand so close to her body, near it, touching it. The strength of his want almost overpowered hers now in her thoughts.

She rushed into school as the first bell rang, the word _frisson _running through her head.

_Frisson _was that skittering of what felt like a release of ants up and down her spine. And she was definitely feeling it, all over.

It was positively ethereal. Boys like him did not go for girls like her. She was too neat and prep and concerned about school. She couldn't be laid back if she tried. But yet that seemed to be what Duncan went for. It was absurd. It was unbelievable. It was her life.

She rushed out of her eighth period class; only one more to go. But a sign stopped her in her tracks.

SPRING PROM

DUE TO PREDICTED STORMY WEATHER, WE HAVE RE-BOOKED FOR THIS WEEKEND. PLEASE FIX YOUR SCHEDULES AND COME TO THE CHARLATAN ON SATURDAY, FROM 8PM – 11 PM.

She had been counting that Bridgette would forget, so she could bail on them. But that was obviously not the case. She groaned, dropping her books into a heap at her feet. Who would she go with?

Then she remembered: Duncan. Ew. No way. She might be turned on, but she would not dance with him, ballroom dancing or otherwise. Duncan ballroom dancing was a disturbing picture anyway. She almost laughed. Key word almost.

After school she sat on one of the wooden benches and read the scripted stone pole that was standing tall in the middle of a fountain that was spewing water all over the pansies that were housed in its moist base. It read _Peace to the world. _Around the pole was written the same phrase in different languages.

It was abnormal for her mom to be late, especially to something as important as school. But when Courtney checked her watch, her mom was over forty minutes late.

All of a sudden something warm settled next to her. She looked around, expecting it to be Cody, attempting to be alluring, since Justin still wasn't back from the hospital. But no, it was Duncan. His expression was hard. She didn't bother asking why.

"Princess," he greeted.

"Duncan," she answered, heat building in her head cavity.

He frowned for some unfathomable reason and rested one elbow on the bench, the other casually thrown into his lap. She could never achieve such cool-headedness.

Courtney, with nothing else to stare at, turned her attention back to the stone pole and traced the inscription with her eyes. She wished her mom would pull up so she could breezily blow him off instead of sitting here as rigid as, well, stone. She wished she could think of something to say, something funny and witty at the same time. But nothing came to mind. Nothing but a heated picture with made her gasp for breath suddenly. Duncan gave her a funny look but didn't question.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked suddenly with that same inexplicable tenseness that had held before.

She stared at him and swallowed. It was that clear she was a virgin. She was really that immature. Her face flushed.

He muttered something to himself. "Sorry."

Courtney regained her composure quickly. "That's fine. God. Is it that obvious?"

He smiled slightly, but the crease on his forehead was still visible.

All of a sudden her mom's car pulled up and the horn honked loudly. Courtney took that as her cue to stand up. Once again she worked to look put together, every hair in place, hood hanging properly on her backpack, no wrinkles or folds, glide in step. She managed to make it to the car smoothly and poised.

But that was no consolation to the fiery explosions occurring in her stomach, singing her throat, setting flame to her organs, causing her to turn red from the inside out. Why had he asked her that? Why did she feel that her skin was flaming up? She could feel warm rashes spreading from hairline to heel.

Her mom was so distracted that she didn't note her daughter's flushed appearance; she instead rambled on how she was so, so sorry she was late.

Courtney nodded and mumbled "that's fine" in coherently. Her mind was racing, she felt as if a tsunami had washed away the remaints of her brain.

By that comment he had either meant to evoke her into actually having _it _with him, or his single-minded mission was to make her life miserable by keeping her up at night, waiting wondering, wanting.

She assumed it was the latter, but she didn't know. It always could be…

No. Resounding no. _Big _resounding no

But was it? She impatiently tapped her heel against the car floor, drumming her fingers on her chin, humming an erratic song and wishing the answers would come.

She arrived home and went to the kitchen, picking up a piece of bread and nibbling at it on her way up to her room. She figured she could distract herself by doing homework, but what was the point? She knew proofs would evade her thoughts for gloom and desire to move in. It was unavoidable.

She looked in her mirror. She still looked neat. Her brown hair, which was wavy after she had braided it from the night before, was evenly hanging on either shoulder and neatly voluminous on top.

Sighing heavily, she picked the black dress from her closet and slipped it on, feeling the whoosh of the crinoline and satin against her bare legs, rustling after it had fluttered around her hips. Returning to the mirror, she stared in. She looked pale once more, blue-marbled. The silky torso hugged her skinny frame, wrapping itself around her, wrinkling and folding at the appropriate places, the crinoline revealing itself exactly an inch at every angle.

Wondering if the world saw her in the same, pretty way she saw herself, she lifted it off her self and just stared at her exposed stomach, which was appropriately flat but not rib-showing. Her legs were long and justly thin.

Hopes floating from this optimistic view of herself, she returned to her jeans and hooded shirt.

Silently she picked at her dinner, gave one-sentence answers for her reading discussion questions, and checked her email. One from Bridgette.

_I know what you were thinking, not happening! I'm not forgetting, you won't bail on us for prom. Ha. I swear, me and Gwen will strap you to the car top._

_Love Bee_

Courtney groaned and rolled her eyes, typing a quick response:

_Hmm. Didn't think so._

_Court_

Yawning, she climbed into bed, resting her back against the headboard and checking every nook and cranny of her room for hiders.

Her calendar, which happened to be the collector's edition of Famous Architectural Ruins Worldwide, had Saturday circled. She traced the golden gilded numbers etched onto the calendar's pristine white sheets. It happened to be Wednesday. She leaned over and flicked her lamp off.

She didn't care about dreams that night. She wished she was a better dancer. She wished she was more laid back. She wished she was like Bridge. She wished there was no prom. She wished she had more wishes.

_A/N: This was more of an interlude, the actual plot starts next…it's way more, uh, essential to the story. Ideas? PM, review! _

_One more thing, I don't know when I was planning to end this. I obviously already know how its going to end, PROM. Sorry if you didn't want to know that. So if you have an estimation about when I should end this, review me with the number of chapters. I should be wrapping this up and starting a oneshot called Chance, Fate, Destiny? Or I'll write that while I'm planning this story; I already know what it's about. The things is, if you want more of the Bullet Saga, check my author page, because I've planned out the future stories, and they're all part of the series. Every story is based on the according book in the Twilight Series. Review or PM if you think I should continue. Personally, I don't think I should, but if you want, I could…_

_So here it is:_

_**Chance, Fate, Destiny?**_

_Oneshot. It could have been chance, fate, or destiny. Either that or Duncan planned it. D/C. _

_It might be a drabble-oneshot-thing, I really don't know._

_Also, I was thinking of writing a story for Bridgette/Geoff. I'm not a fan of Gwen/Trent, sorry, so that would be hard for me. Maybe I'll do a oneshot for Gwen Trent later, not sure. But Bridgette/Geoff is my second favorite pairing/ship, so I might do that next._

_Anyway, the Bridgette/Geoff one will be called:_

_**Make the Impossible Possible**_

_AU. It's forbidden, mermaids can't interact with humans. Still, she can't help falling for him. B/G._

_Ten-shot, based on the Little Mermaid? Stupid or not?_


	11. Chapter 11

DODGING THE BULLET

**DODGING THE BULLET**

A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY

_A/N: Hey, Chicago here, again. Lately, Total Drama Island is my obsession. I breathe, think, eat, and sleep it. Not to be taken lightly, it's literally my life. So you're not done with me yet after this, trust me._

_If you like vampire stories like Twilight, I suggest you read this short story published online called True Hospitality by Jacqueline Lichtenberg: __/writers/luren/truehospitality.html__._

_Some sexual themes, I warn you. If you can't handle that…_

_The plot begins now. Summary: I have decided to have Courtney have that creepy chase-for-her-life in this chapter, and a bit more…hint, hint…_

_Is it even possible for chapters to suck as much as mine do?_

_CHICAGO718_

_--_

_CHAPTER ELEVEN: WIND, WATER, ICE, BLOOD_

_--_

After a rather hellish week in high school, Courtney was sitting in the giant oak in her backyard, kicking her foot against its substantial trunk, feeling the bark scratch into her bare feet. It was a nice, near-to-summer day. The leaves on the trees were browning and crinkling within themselves, but some were still the soft, smooth green.

Her mind was elsewhere. She thought about herself. It was unlike her. She was not governed by her hormones, nor was she threatened by coerce. Either Duncan was a pretentious sycophant, or she was a hopeless pushover. She was leaning toward the second one.

_I might actually be falling for him, _she thought. _And if not, I might be in the biggest denial in the history of history._

_It isn't denial though! _She insisted back, arguing with herself. _If I honestly don't like him, it can't be denial!_

_It's denial. _The devil sounded too smug.

Whatever. She brushed away her thoughts, hopping agilely down from the branch on both feet.

When she got inside, the phone in her room was ringing. She picked it up, hoping for Bridgette. Maybe she could get herself out of prom.

No. It was a male voice. "Hello?" Courtney said cautiously, prepared to slam down the phone in case it was a killer.

"It's Duncan," the guy answered.

"Oh," she squeaked, her voice suddenly breaking.

"Me and the guys have a baseball thing tonight at, uh…seven. Want to come?" he asked, level as ever.

Courtney raised her eyebrows. "You play?"

"Sure," he said. "So?"

She looked back at her calendar. "Is Bridgette going to be there?"

There was a loud female giggle and the sound of Geoff's voice in the background. "Uh, yeah."

She sighed. "Fine, then."

She hung up, massaging her temples. Her life was stressful, that was for sure.

Around six forty-five Courtney came down the stairs in a long-sleeve gray-green flannel shirt and jeans. It was raining lightly, pattering against the windowsill and heavier against the front door. She clutched her gray raincoat around her tighter.

At seven on the dot the door rang. She checked her watch. So he was a perv, but a punctual perv.

He was standing at the door, soaked through, though somehow his Mohawk was still standing erect on his head. She looked around him. A huge black truck with tires to her waist was rumbling in the driveway.

"Do you know how much _gas_ that thing guzzles up?" Courtney cried, sounding like Bridgette.

"Oh relax, princess. It's just for here and back. Even Bridgette agreed to it."

Ugh. She walked out to the car, opening the passenger seat and was immediately greeted by the sounds of laughing and soft guitar music, clashing with the heavy rock coming from the radio. She got in anyway. Bridgette was sitting in Geoff's lap, her legs wrapped around him, pinning his back to the seat and kissing him heavily. She took a breath for a second to say hello, and was immediately pulled down by Geoff again. Gwen's knees were to her chest, she was staring out the window with her sketchpad and a pencil. Trent was staring hard at his guitar, mouthing words to himself, trying them out, and holding Gwen's hand at the same time.

She almost smiled. It was romantic, for sure. She wondered if she and Duncan were like that. Right. Yeah. Maybe never.

Duncan started the car, staring at Courtney the whole time. As soon as he turned the key in, the whole car growled, rumbling loudly over the din of music.

The whole ride wasn't much for conversation, as all of them except Duncan were bouncing up and down like a jackhammer. Gwen gave up drawing.

"Uh…slow down, please?" Courtney said over the radio, her words marred by the bounces and bursts of music.

He ignored her. Typical delinquent. He just grinned. She hadn't realized how attractive his smile was till now.

All of a sudden Duncan stepped on the brakes and the car screeched to a stop with a squeal of tired skidding across the wet asphalt. Courtney was thrown into her seatbelt, face inches from the airbag holder.

"We're here," was all he said, not repentant in the slightest.

Courtney looked out the window. They were parked on some sort of ledge. Beneath the ledge, rocks were jutting out in the form of steps. They were steep, and thin.

"Where's the field?"

Duncan smirked. "Uh, down there."

He pointed. All the way down, like, two hundred steps, was a square drawn in white paint, and white rubber pentagons to mark off the bases.

"Down there?" Once again, her voice pitched higher at the end. She cleared her throat.

The four others in the car looked at her curiously.

"Go on ahead, okay?" he told the teens in the backseat. "I'll get her."

"What?" Courtney made the cut-throat motion to Bridgette, as in, _Don't leave me. _Bridgette grinned half-apologetically, but she got out of the car and started down the ledge, Geoff in hand.

She eased out of the car herself, promising herself she would never go down there, no matter how Duncan would try. She looked down it. It seemed steeper. She felt woozy, swaying slightly on the spot, but she got hold of herself before Duncan could spot anything.

"Problem, darling?"

"Yes. You didn't tell me we'd have to walk down this! I could…die…"

"That's stupid. I'm catch you if you fall or whatever."

Courtney snorted. "Like that really makes me feel so much better."

"Why not?" Duncan was in front of her. When did he get there? When did the ledge get so far away? Why was her back against something hard? Her leg touched something rubbery, a tire. Her back was against the car. How had it gotten there?

"Hey," Courtney complained, struggling as he set his hands on either side of her head, resting them against the car and pinning her back to the truck.

"You were saying?" he drawled, pressing his lips to her neck and talking against it.

Courtney blinked rapidly. She suddenly couldn't remember what she was worried about, only Duncan's lips at her neck. "Uh…falling down and hitting my head on a rock. And dying."

His lips moved higher on her neck, just beneath her jaw. "And now?"

She struggled, her shoulders trying to shove him away. "Falling down and hitting my head."

His lips pressed against the side of her mouth. "Now?"

"Falling." Courtney felt her breath go unsteady. She felt her warm breath bouncing back at her.

His hand grazed her neck, his lips moving purposefully against the side of her mouth, only more centered now. "Now what are you afraid of?"

"Uh…uh…" she scrambled, stuttering.

"I thought so." He hungrily moved his lips to fully take over hers, overpowering her with his lips and his body. His tongue, his hands near her, she almost groaned, but she kept it to herself. He tasted cold, like mint. He seemed almost icy against her, her arms tucked in at her sides and stuck between their bodies, which were tightly intertwined together, thanks to Duncan.

As suddenly as he started, he pulled away. "So go down."

She looked at him with what she hoped was utter bitterness, but she put her foot on the first rock. It was surprisingly steady. She took another cautious step, making sure her foot was centered before she put her weight upon it.

Soon she was settled at the bottom, Duncan following closely.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked cockily.

"Whatever." She turned around. The white square was bigger, and besides Duncan, Trent, and Geoff, there was Tyler, DJ, Cody (who was cracking his knuckles 'menacingly'), Noah, who was sitting in the outfield reading a book, and Owen who was dancing around the bases with no shirt. She shuddered slightly. "Have fun. Go team!"

He snickered at her slightly, running into the outfield with a mitt.

She rolled her eyes slightly, but smiled to herself, and went to sit next to Gwen.

She turned to Bridgette. "So you finally let go of Geoff? You were hanging onto him like a vice."

Bridgette flushed. "He's really cool." She grew defensive. "Besides, I'm not the only one here with a guy. Look at Gwen—" she pointed. Gwen was flipped to the picture of Trent she had drawn that long time ago, and was drawing hearts around it. "—she's cool with Trent and not in denial like you."

Courtney reddened too. "He's okay, okay?"

Bridgette made a face. "Whatever you like." Her voice switched to contrite. "And, uh, Courtney, I'm really sorry. I need the black dress back. My aunt said if I didn't want it, she wanted it for my cousin."

Courtney looked at her. "So what will I wear?"

Bridgette looked at her hands. "I don't know. I'm sorry. If you don't want to go to prom, you don't have to, I guess."

Frowning, Courtney turned her eyes to her lap. She had begun to actually look forward to prom.

She watched Duncan hit one and round to third base.

All of a sudden, a huge crack from the field snapped Courtney's head up. Trent had hit a huge home run. Gwen smiled. Geoff set off into the woods to find the ball. Bridgette looked anxiously after him.

After a few minutes, Geoff returned, with the ball in hand. But he was pale, white as a sheet. He was shoved by an unseen force further into the field. Courtney studied the woods behind him.

Five guys emerged from the darkness, all similar to Duncan in looks with their piercings and snake tattoos and dyed hair. They silently were lined up, from a big, brawny guy in the middle ranging to a skinny but muscular, lanky one at the end of the line.

Courtney wracked her brain and remembered Mount Shasta. The 'gang'. The stalkers, the psychos.

She looked at them. One looked back at her, his coal-black eyes narrowing and glittering dangerously.

It was them. Her blood felt like ice, the wind wracking her cold bones, freezing water filling up any parts of her that were warm.

Wind, water, ice, and blood. It was a perfect combination.

_Sorry it's a little short. I wanted to leave you on the edge. I live for that. Ha._

_And how gay am I, like seriously? I hated the dialogue in this chapter, it was too abrupt and stuff._

_Oh, and the dress thing will all tie in at the end, don't worry—I wanted to describe the dress (a different one mind you) in greater detail._

_Don't be surprised if the next chapter totally and utterly sucks. I am so bad with conveying fear to the readers. Like the chase for their lives, you know? I cannot write fear or sadness or anger. That's just the way I am._


End file.
